Dearly Beloved
by YfyF12
Summary: Amber's right when she claims her childhood best friend, who was now a murderer, has changed drastically in the few years. Little did she know that he isn't the only one who's changed. MichaelxOC now rated M for horror and violence.
1. Chapter 1

Dearly Beloved

_Author: YolandaFriella_

**Hello Halloween/Michael Myer fans! I'm going through the re-edit the chapters, seeing I made some habitual mistakes, so I'm just letting you know this =) If this is your first time to read this, I sincerely hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it. This may not seem as the summary says, because it's only the beginning. Luckily for you, I have so many more chapters up. So when you finish this one, continue on! :D **

**Thank you and here's chapter one ^-^**

* * *

Michael found his respected seat, located in the back of his 6th grade classroom.

It was a fresh year, his first year of middle school. Unlike most students, who glanced around fretfully, Michael could care less about his education. He only wanted to get this dreadful day over with, to return to his much preffered enviornment, which was back at his house in his secluded room so he couldn't be bothered. Most would say Michael was abnormal; he liked to call himself "different".

His teacher, Ms. Mabry, smiled welcomingly at each young pupil as they entered the room. Michael, out of boredom, stared down at his hands, tapping them rhythmically against the desk. He didn't like school; he hated it. He disliked the teachers who pretended to adore their "children", even though they secretly hated their job. He thought they lied when they say they loved their job.

Bored of tapping his finger, Michael stole an uninterested glance at the desk next to him, seeing nobody sitting in it. The teacher assigned every student an individual seat by taping a name card on the top of every little desk so the proper student knew which was theirs. He discovered the name.

**Amber Marie Rarrat**

He lifted an eyebrow. So his neighbor this year was going to be a girl known as Amber? Great. Without thinking, Michael judged her. From the name of Amber, he pictured a over-bubbly girl, probably into cheerleading and such. He frowned in disappoinment, his hopes of finding a friend for once crumbling. Besides, he seldomly got along with girls-especially cheerleaders.

"Hello," A voice startled Michael out of his thoughts rather curtly. A girl sat down in the seat, smiling over at at him sincerely. Michael sure wasn't used to this behavior. She was pretty, in her own way. With fiery hair that fell softly against her collar bone, the girl decorated her hair with a glittered headband. Michael was shocked at her appearance. Now, he thought of her as the "artsy" kind of girl. "My name is Amber. It's a pleasure to meet you!" She leaned back in her chair, her dress riding up a little on her legs. Michael quickly looked away, knowing it was improper for an upcoming teenage boy to stare in certain places; especially with girls. Michael, curiously, looked around at the other girls in the room, and the redhead was the only one wearing a dress. Whoa. "What's your name?"

Silently, Michael pointed to his name tag. The girl blushed in response. "Sorry. I'm not the, uh, smartest one here."

"No, you're a mastermind," A boy told her mockingly, sitting in the desk directly behind her. Michael recognized the boy. He was, in his mind, his arch rival-Boyd. Oh how he hated that boy, with a flaming passion. Michael glared daggers into the sneering boy's back, his hand gripping onto the edge of the desk to release his sudden fury. His eyes snapped back to the girl's when she exclaimed happily.

Amber beamed. "Why thank you!"

Michael heard Boyd snicker. He looked back at the girl, beyond words. Has she ever hear of sarcasm? Was something wrong with her? Perhaps a disorder? Seeing her smiling at the kids walking in, he knew something was different about her. So, he decided to speak up.

"Is something wrong with you?" He asked inaudibly, trying to not let other people hear their conversation. He didn't mean it insultingly; he truly wanted to know out of curiosity.

The girl shot him a worried look. "No. I don't think so. Why? Does it look like I'm sick or something?" She rubbed fiercely at her cheek, "Do I have something on my face?"

Michael held back a laugh at her panicked expression. "No. I, just...never mind." He was silent for a moment then asked, "Are you new here?"

"Yup," She chirped, "just got here yesterday." She smiled again at some girl who was eyeing her like a bacteria, "The people here are so welcoming,"

Michael blinked. "Uh, I—"

"Class, I think this is everyone." Ms. Mabry said from the front of the classroom, "welcome to junior high!"

Michael took one more glance at the girl.

She was currently waving at a boy who was gazing at her like she was nuts. Michael couldn't help but smile.

Yeah, she was definitely different.

* * *

Michael saw her again after school.

And she was crying. Not just crying faintly but weeping, sobbing. He stood from across the street, silently staring at her tiny form, shaking from the violent sobs racking her body.

"Are you alright?" He asked as he hurried over to her, sympathy making itself known within his chest. She sat down on the curb of the street, crying into her hands uncontrollably.

"No," She told him honestly, not looking up from her hands. "I'm not okay."

"What's wrong?" When she never answered him, Michael instantly felt bad for asking. Maybe she didn't want to discuss it with him. It had to be peronal to her. Sitting down besides her, he peered down at her. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that. I shouldn't have asked."

Several students walked by, pausing to laugh at the girl crying for an unknown reason. Michael instantly wanted to show them what it's like to be in pain. And it involved a fork.

"He was so kind to me," She muttered into her hands, her voice muffled. Michael had to strain his ears to hear her. He thought maybe she was talking about someone dying in her family—a father or brother. "I loved him so much."

"I lost someone in my family, too," Michael admitted softly, thinking of his father. He was confused by his actions. Why was he telling her this? He's never told anyone this! However, seeing her usually vibrant face full of tears and green eyes bright red, her auburn hair plastered to her face from crying, she reminded him of his little sister, Boo. She looked like a young child, not a 6th grader. He felt pity for her. "I know what it's like; what you're going through. It's not easy, but you learn to move on. And the experience makes you stronger."

"His name was Copper," She confessed, crying again. Michael cocked his head to the side. Copper, indeed, was an unusual name for a father or any human being. "He was about the size of my hand," Okay, Michael thought to himself, this keeps getting weirder and weirder. Finally, she looked up and said, "He was my eight year old beagle."

Oh. That explains everything.

Wait.

Michael gaped down at her.

She was crying, not because someone related to her died, but because her eight year old beagle _died_? This girl was extremely weird, even Michael had to admit.

"I've had him since I was a baby," She continued, and Michael was stunned when she suddenly lunged at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his midsection to bury her head in his chest, crying even more.. He honestly didn't know what to do. Stiffening, he let her hug him but didn't have the heart to hug her back. He sat next to her all day but he still didn't know anything about her. "I loved him, Michael! He was my baby, my life. I taught him how to sit, to shake his hand, to roll over! Oh God! I don't know what I'll do," She sobbed on. Michael could only stare down at her, wishing he had the heart to help her—to comfort her—but he just couldn't do it.

He didn't know her enough.

"I miss him so much," she whimpered into Michael's now stained shirt, and Michael opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Eventually, after a few agonizing minutes of hearing the pathetic girl sob, Amber pulled away and wiped her eyes slowly. She smiled sadly up at Michael. "I'm sorry. Oh, your shirt's all ruined." Michael said nothing, just stared at her. "Well, thanks for, er, listening to me. I'm terribly sorry about your shirt." She stood up and Michael followed suit, still gaping at her.

This didn't make since to him. Who would cry over something so stupid like a _dog_?

"You're a nice guy," Amber told him happily, "wanna come over to my house?"

Michael instantly obliged, "No. My mom wants me home to help her clean."

Her face fell for a moment, but then brightened up. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Michael!" She waved goodbye then took off running, vanishing from Michael's eyes as she ran off.

Michael stood in the same spot for awhile, just staring at the spot where he sat with her. It didn't' seem real to him. Did he really just sit with a girl he hardly knew, and let her cry all over him, over an _animal_? Shaking his head, Michael decided to head somewhere where everything made sense.

Home.


	2. Chapter 2

Dearly Beloved

_Author: YolandaFriella_

**Chapter two of Dearly Beloved! Whoot! I hope you all like this chapter, even though this part of the story will be kind of sad. Well, if you're emotional like me ;p **

**Leave a review if you have time. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Halloween. I own none of the characters. I DO in fact, own Amber. So, if you wanna buy her, give me your highest bid! No, I'm just kidding. SHE'S MINE! Wahahahahaha.**

* * *

"Where've you been, fag?" Was the first thing Michael heard when he entered his house. He set his bag down besides the door, and didn't even glance at his stepfather as he ambled up the staircase. He could feel his stepfather's eyes on him, but he easily shook the feeling off. "Hey! I was talkin' to you!"

Michael paused to answer back, "I don't care,"

"Fucking faggot!"

Michael quickly ran up the stairs, his heart beating wildly within his chest like a furious gorilla threatening to escape. When he reached his room, he locked the door immediately and sunk down on his knees. God what he'd do to have a normal family.

I'll bet Amber has a normal family…

As if on cue, Michael could hear the recognizable voice of someone outside his window. Silently, he stood up and walked to his window. Over across the street stood that house that's been for sale for as long as Michael could remember. Now, he saw Amber outside, sitting on the curb, messing with something in her hands. Michael eyed her circumspectly.

For some unexplainable reason, something wanted him to go out there and talk to her.

But Michael knew that going down the stairs would only result in him getting yelled again at by his stepfather.

Ignore her, Michael thought callously. I don't even know her; why should I even bother talking to her?

He watched as she suddenly looked up, staring right up at him and as her entire face lit up. She smiled and waved cheerfully, catching his attention instantly. Michael grew frozen, as if he was caught doing something wrong. Eventually, he picked up his hand and waved back stiffly.

She was obviously satisfied when Michael saw she returned to whatever she was doing.

And Michael grew curious to what she was making, or doing.

* * *

The next day at school, Michael found Amber waiting outside, in the middle of the street. He sighed inwardly. _Is she stalking me? _

"Hi Michael!" She greeted chirpily, and Michael wondered how someone could be so happy at this time of day. "I had no idea you were my neighbor."

"Yeah," Michael muttered, "that house's been on sale for years."

"Really? My parents love it!" She skipped a little in front of him, and Michael merely watched her. _How old is she again? _She noticed his crestfallen expression. "Is something wrong?"

"No."

Michael began walking as she walked in step besides him, albeit with a bounce added for flare. He could hear the soft sound of her humming a melody, one that sounded poignant and almost vague. He stared at her. "What're you humming?"

She stopped and looked up, confused. "Huh?"

"I heard you, uh, singing or whatever." He furrowed his brow, fixing the strap on his backpack. "What was it?" _I wish you'd do it again. It was kind of pretty… _He couldn't help but feel a little calmed by it, and he was instantly confused at why he was. He's never heard that tune in his life; not even from his mother, and his mother knew just about every lullaby there was.

"Oh it's just a tune I've heard on a game," She smiled again, "ever heard of Kingdom Hearts?"

"I've heard of it, but I've never played it."

"Well the music on it," She smiled abstractedly, suddenly looking forlorn, as if recalling some long-lost memory, "is so beautiful."

Michael chuckled. "It's a kid's game."

"So what?" She suddenly looked normal again, vivid and happy, "everyone's a kid inside, am I wrong? What's so bad with doing some kiddy things?"

"Nothing, I guess." Michael shrugged, not really grasping the girl's meaning beneath her expression.

"Exactly," Amber swung her bag around, purse looking thing, and Michael briefly wondered how she could hold all her school supplies in there. "So you ready for school?"

"No." Michael smiled faintly. "I don't like Ms. Mabry." He honestly didn't think anyone did.

"Why not?" Amber asked in bewilderment. "She's a sweet woman,"

Michael gaped at her. "She yelled at Johnny for dropping his pencil, on the first day of school!"

"So? Perhaps that hurt her hearing. Teacher's all have to be nice since they spend all their time helping us," Amber touched her heart with her small fist, "while they have kids mouthing off to them. I sometimes wonder how they stay in check without saying something really bad to them. That has to take a lot of control." She laughed.

"Whatever you say," Michael finally gave up with arguing with her. _She always has something "nice" to say back. What's the point in trying? _

Suddenly, Michael heard something that rang in his mind. That melody again. He looked at Amber from the corner of his eyes and watched as she stared at the ground as she walked; her reddish-brown locks falling against her cheeks, her lips half opened as she calmly hummed it. His chest constricted like a snake, and his heart slowed down, swearing he now felt like he was walking on air. The harmony just reminded him of something so pensive and illusory that his mind went void for a moment. _I'll bet she has a good voice… _

He could feel himself getting closer to her…

And he didn't shake that off; he welcomed it without a mere thought.

* * *

"Here we are!" Amber announced animatedly as the two approached the school. Michael smiled. _How can someone be so excited over school?_ "Ready to use your brain, Michael?"

"Sure," He replied hesitantly. He didn't want to ruin her cheerfulness, she just looked way too happy.

He watched in amusement when Amber hummed another tune, one that was happy and that sent his heart beating. It was so different than the other one, but he liked the other one. She skipped off towards the school ahead of him. Then something happened that broke Michael's heart.

Boyd, the school bully, knocked her down out of nowhere and she crumpled to the floor in a small heap. He and two other friends began laughing riotously; pointing at her like she was a confined animal.

_Should I help her? _Michael was about to walk forth and stick up for her when Boyd himself turned to stare at Michael. Michael instantly stopped. _If I help her then he'll bully me… Is she worth it? I hardly know her… She'll have to fend for herself. _

Feeling blameworthy and like garbage, Michael hastily dashed the opposite way and went into the school.

And he left Amber with the laughing hyenas.

Even in the building he could hear her screams.

* * *

She never came to school.

Michael worried about her the whole day, seeing a laughing Boyd and his little buddies. With each minute passing by with the empty desk next to him, Michael grew more panicked and panicked.

_It's all my fault. I should've helped her but I was too selfish. Boy wouldn't Dad be angry at me. Now she could be really hurt! But would they honestly do all this just to harm an innocent girl who's done nothing to them? _

_….Yes. _

During gym Michael finally confronted Boyd in the locker room. Cornering him, Michael spoke up, "What'd you do to her?"

Boyd looked around, and then noticed it was Michael talking to him. He smirked and leaned against the lockers, shirtless. Michael glared hatefully at him. "What did I do to whom?"

"To Amber!" Michael shouted, thankful everyone was already outside and ready. Boyd snickered.

"Oh the redhead!" He laughed again. "If I told you, you'd be so mad."

Michael felt his face pale. "What. Did. You. Do. To. Her?"

"She'll have some bruises," Boyd told him, "around her stomach." He shrugged, pulling the shirt over his head. "No big deal. She'll heal." He eyed Michael warily. "I'm beginning to think you both are dating."

"She's not my girlfriend," Michael snapped, whirling around. He didn't care when the coach asked him where he was going, he just ran from the school.

He had to help Amber.

* * *

She was sitting against the tree in her front yard.

When Michael approached her, he was prepared for her to run inside or yell at him. However, he sure wasn't prepared for when she held something out for him.

A candy cane?

"Amber," Michael choked out, panting since he ran the whole way here. She watched him curiously. "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?" She asked innocently. "I'm fine, Michael. Here, have a candy cane."

Michael took, knowing fully well that it would shut her up. He sat next to her, studying her body (not in the gross way, perverts ;p) for any bruises or cuts. "Did they… Hurt you?"

She shrugged. "I was their punching bag. They had problems. I'm willing to help them, really. It's no big deal. It's just," She lifted her shirt so her torso (except her bra, just her stomach) was evident. Michael's breathe halted. A huge bruise was there, a boot print, and several, smaller other ones followed. He dropped the candy cane. _Didn't that hurt her? At all? _"I have a few scrapes. I feel bad for Boyd."

"Why? He hurt you!" Michael told her frantically, shaking his head. "How could you even say that?"

She held up her hand, silencing him. Michael strained to stay silent, but soon enough, he was calmed down. She smiled. "It's always easier to forgive than to hate."

Michael stiffened and leaned against the tree, just staring at her. She sighed and put her shirt back into place, turning back to her candy cane to lick it happily. Soon enough, he heard that familiar, heartrending tune that he grew to adore.

Even though she forgave them, Michael knew he couldn't.

He wasn't strong enough.

* * *

**Gotta love Amber, right? ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

The two sat in the grass, at first, thinking nothing of it. Then when minutes passed, Amber's mother walked out. Michael quickly looked away, mentally preparing himself for a long lecture about skipping school and whatnot. What he wasn't prepared for, though, was what actually happened.

"Hey, Amber," Her mother greeted softly, "oh! Is this Michael?"

Amber beamed. "Yeah! I told you he was nice!"

Michael found himself being forced to look up, up into the face of Amber's mother. She had the same complexion of her daughter, but she didn't have the sizzling mane of hair like Amber. Her hair was a whitish blonde. Her eyes were emerald like Amber's but they weren't mischievous; they were more compassionate and tranquil. He found himself relaxing under her gaze, which surprised him. Normally, he hated adults.

"Amber's told me so much about you," His mother cooed excitedly. Michael shot a confused glance at Amber, who was avoiding his eyes and twirling a strand of grass between her fingers. When Michael heard Amber's mother giggle, he looked back up. "Don't worry; she's told me nothing but good stuff about you. Sadly, she had to miss out on school today since those boys decided to have her as her punching bag." She darkened for a moment, looking over her daughter. "That reminds me, how are you feeling, honey?"

Amber looked up for a moment, "I'm doing well, Mom."

Her mother smiled, relieved. Finally, she looked back down at Michael. "Anyway, are you hungry?"

He cocked his head. _She's not going to bother asking me why I'm here? _"Um, I skipped out on lunch but I normally do that."

"Great! I'll make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!" Her mother clapped her hands gleefully, practically dancing away from the two. Michael turned to look back at Amber.

"She's a lot like you."

Amber giggled. "Thanks! A lot of people tell me that."

Michael muttered, "I wonder why,"

"What?"

"Never mind." Michael sighed, lying down on his back. _Like I said, I knew she had a perfect family… Perfect house… I'll bet she has a perfect dad, too…._

Before he knew it, Amber's mother was back and handing him a plate full of a good looking sandwich. His stomach growled. Whoa. He didn't realize how hungry he was until he saw that sandwich.

"Thank you, Mrs. Rarrat," He said softly, sitting up to eat.

She shook her head, laughing. "Please, call me Ms. Rarrat or Jenny for short."

"Ms. Rarrat," Michael corrected himself with a smile. _So I was wrong… She obviously doesn't have a dad… _

"Yes I'm married," Jenny said, as if speaking his mind, "but I hate it when people call me Mrs.. It makes me feel old!"

"Sorry," Michael took a bit of the sandwich, not really used to eating homemade meals. He smiled thankfully up at Jenny. "Thank you,"

"Any time," She grinned. "If you two need anything, I'll be right inside." She disappeared back into the house and Amber crawled over next to Michael.

Michael offered her a piece, even though his stomach begged him not to since he was so hungry. "Want some?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm never hungry."

He lifted an eyebrow at her.

She giggled at his face. "It's nothing to worry about. Hey," She leaned closer, peering over into his eyes, "what's your last name?"

"Myers," He paused in taking a bite, "why?"

"Just wondering." Amber looked away. "It's nothing."

Michael said nothing more, even though something nagged at his brain, telling him that something just wasn't right.

But this time, the first time in so many years, he ignored it.

* * *

"Hey," Michael was in the bathroom, brushing his hair after he took a shower. His sister, Judith, appeared in the doorway. She shot him an annoyed look. "Get the hell out. I need to brush my teeth."

"Why can't you do it with me in here?"

She scoffed. "Because you little fag! Get the fuck out before I tell Mom!"

Michael left in a huff, barely able to look at his older sister. He was about to go back into his room until he paused in front of his little sister, Boo's room. Without thinking, he walked in.

There she was, lying peacefully on the bed, sleeping heavily. He smiled gently and walked in front of her, reaching down to caress the top of her head. She had a little bit of hair now, and Michael had a feeling she was going to have brown hair.

Finally done, he walked back into his room and turned out the light, preparing to go to bed. As he pulled back the covers of his bed, something made him look out the window.

Shouting.

Looking out, he found that the yelling was coming from Amber's house. He leaned over a bit, squinting his eyes to see better. Yes. The shouting was definitely coming from her house. He winced when the sound of a crash reached his ears. _What's going on over there? Did someone break in? Should I call the police? _

After thinking for a few moments, his mother, Mrs. Myers, caught him standing in front of the window. She hugged him tightly from behind.

"Is something wrong, honey?" She asked into his ear. Michael shook his head.

"No. Good night, Mom. I'm really tired." His mom laughed and walked out of the room.

"Love you, Michael."

"Love you, too."

That night, Michael continuously could hear the hostility coming from Amber's house. Sure he was bothered; half the time staying awake, listening, eyes wide. But, sadly, he didn't have the guts to do anything about it. _I'm such a wimp… Hopefully she's alright tomorrow… _

Then, he finally found sleep.

* * *

Michael waited outside of his house in the morning, waiting for Amber. Truthfully, he had horrible nightmares the entire night. So he was restless and tired. Right now, he was more than concerned about Amber.

Finally, she strolled out of her house, with a bounce in her step, walking right over to Michael. She smiled brightly up at him, seeing his watching gaze but ignoring it. "Hi Michael! Ready for school?"

They began walking. "Amber, did you hear some, uh, shouting from a house last night?" Michael grew uncomfortable.

She looked away, suspiciously avoiding his eyes. _Yeah, she's definitely hiding something…. _

"I heard nothing," She said quickly and Michael knew for a fact that she was lying. The darting of her eyes, the way her body leaned away from him, the way her breathing picked up, she was seriously lying. _Was something wrong with her? _She suddenly nudged him lightly yet lightheartedly, "Ready for Ms. Mabry again?"

Michael honestly didn't want to change the subject at hand but he had no choice but to grin and play along. "Oh yeah right!" He rolled his eyes for good measure. _Good, she bought it. _

Amber giggled. "I think you shouldn't judge her. Like I said, she's a wonderful person."

Michael scoffed.

That's when he caught sight of a medium sized bruise decorating her arm right in front of her armpit. She looked to see him staring, but he quickly hid it by scratching his hair.

What happened last night?

Michael was practically dying for answers.

And he was determined to get them. Today.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey guys. Just wanted to say that one of my really close friends kindly made a banner for some of my stories. She especially made one for this one. It's awesome! I gave ya'll the link on my profile so if ya'll want to look at it, you're welcome to! It's all her recognition, though; I just chose which picture I liked better for Amber. =)

* * *

It was amazing.

Over the progressing week ahead of them, Michael spent every single day after school at Amber's, either helping her mother or hanging out with her. He learned so many different things about her.

For example, on Wednesday when they were watching TV in her living room, Amber told him something completely shocking.

"Michael," She said softly, as if this was a deep secret, "I play the piano."

"Really?" He was impressed since his older sister gave it a try but ended up quitting. He had no idea how Amber had enough persistence to do it since she just didn't look too enduring. Rather the opposite, honestly. "Show me,"

Amber looked around suspiciously, putting her hand around her mouth to whisper, "Don't tell my mom or dad, okay?"

"Why?"

"Please. Just promise me you won't."

Michael eyed her watchfully, but nodded nonetheless. He never got the answer to why there was all that fighting that one faithful night, but he tried to move on and forget about it. Perhaps they just got in a fight? Sure he's never got that loud or physical with his step-dad but everyone's different. "I promise I won't tell anyone, Amber. Really. Is something wrong?"

Her tiny hand grabbed his, kindly pushing him back to the upstairs. Michael followed behind her obediently; obviously curious to why she seemed so forbidden to even play such a phenomenal instrument. She led him past her bedroom, making a show to tip-tow and keep hushed. Michael tried his best to do as she did. Finally, they came to an aged, sullied door at the end. The air around it seemed foggy and vulgar, but Michael said nothing about it since Amber seemed pretty unruffled. She silently opened it, revealing stairs trailing down into darkness, and nodded at him to follow.

A basement underground.

She turned on a light bulb overhead, casting a little bit of light into the room. It was dim and hard to see, although Michael walked down the thin stairs effortlessly.

What he saw made him halt right when he stepped down.

In the middle of the room, on cemented flooring, sat a grand piano. The wooden structure of it shined in the even faint light, showing how much Amber took care of it. _She must clean it everyday! _It was very huge and a very fancy, delicate built. Michael stared at it in admiration, and then snapped out of it when he saw that Amber was sitting down on it.

She smiled and patted the seat next to her. Michael slowly approached, afraid that if he touched such a beautiful instrument, he would tarnish or pollute it with what or who he was. Her frail hands trailed along the keys, as if imagining pressing on them, but not. He finally sat down, his eyes watching how she looked at him, as if they've known one another forever.

_It sure seems like we've had. I've only known her for five days yet it feels like years. _

"How long have you been playing?" Michael asked curiously.

She paused to answer, flexing her delicate hands. "I have no idea. Daddy won't let me play the piano because he," She sighed, "wants me involved more into school stuff. Like clubs or after school tutoring." She then lowered her voice sorrowfully, "If he catches me playing…."

"What?" Michael demanded edgily. _Please let her tell me what he does to her! Does he beat her? _"Does he hurt you, Amber?"

She smiled faintly, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter." Suddenly, that same tune she was always humming was being played softly yet loudly in front of him. Transfixed, Michael gazed down at her hands when she played so fluently that it looked as if she was part of the piano. The melodramatic melody lodged heavily into his mind and Michael listened closely, too afraid that she would stop and he would forget it.

She seemed… Like a professional player. Michael, least to say, was more than awed. He…. Just was in complete and utter wonder of how well she played. _I had no idea….. _

Michael didn't even know when she was finished. He lost all of his thoughts. The only time he realized she was done was because she was gazing at him.

"What's it called?" He found himself asking, his voice barely above a soft murmur.

Michael was shocked when her fingers traced softly along his face, very similar to what a lover would do to the other, and a blush rose across his cheeks. Normally he would stop someone from doing this but knowing what those hands could do…. He leaned further into her lovely touch. "Dearly Beloved," She told him soothingly, "that's what it's called."

Michael couldn't open his mouth as she traced the planes and outlines of his face, as if memorizing him into her head. His eyes stared back into hers, not knowing what to do.

"AMBER!" The two of them jumped when they heard amber's mother calling them. Amber giggled and jumped up, closing the piano lid over the keys gently. Michael quickly ambled to the steps, waiting for her.

"Time to go, Michael," She said happily, running vastly up the stairs. Michael glanced over his shoulder one more time at the piano, not knowing that this would be his first and last time he'd ever see it.

* * *

"What're you going to be for Halloween?" Amber asked Michael the next day at school during lunch. Most of the kids at the school were getting restless since Halloween was approaching rapidly. Only four more days until the famous holiday.

Michael shrugged. His mom wasn't getting her paycheck until two days after Halloween, which was Friday. So, obviously, he wouldn't be able to buy a costume. "I don't know. I can't buy one because my mom doesn't have enough money right now."

Amber pouted, licking some of her ice cream. "Aw, that's not fair!"

Michael fiddled with his food, not really hungry. He never was a big food eater. "Well, I don't mind. I still have this awesome clown costume from last year,"

"You should come trick-or-treating with me!" Amber exclaimed as if that was a solution to a mathematical problem. "Please? It'll be so much fun!" She winked deceitfully. "Do you know how much candy we'll get?"

Michael chuckled. "A lot?"

"A bag full," Amber giggled happily, opening up her bottle of water. She sipped it without a word, just when Boyd decided to nudge her back from behind, causing it to spill all over her pink blouse. She gasped.

"There," He snickered, "now it matches you. What'd you do huh? Give someone a blowjob?"

Their whole group erupted in laughter, which made Michael so angry that his hand shook.

His eyes strayed down to the fork held in his hand and a thought ran through his mind. _I'm gonna stab him… right in the eye. Then maybe he'll leave Amber alone… _

His eyes widened. He's only thought such thoughts like that when he was at home. Shaking his head, he turned around to glare at Boyd instead of stabbing him.

"Try this on for size," Michael sneered and jabbed Amber's ice cream, which he quickly snatched from her hand, and slapped it into his awaiting face. Ice cream oozed from his face, making him look like a snowman.

Boyd snarled lowly, as if a monster coming from a cave. Michael couldn't help but laugh at his stunned expression, along with everyone else in the lunch room. Amber, however, wasn't too happy.

"Michael!" She said, horrified. "look at what you did!"

"I know," Michael laughed, enjoying this all too much, "isn't it great?"

All he heard was a sob from her. Confused, he turned his head to see a tear come from her vivid eye, landing on top of her pale hand. Before he could say anything, Boyd sucker punched him while he was unaware and Michael's head slammed hard on the table. _Argh. I think he split my lip…. I can taste blood…._

Enraged, Michael turned around and punched him back in the jaw, hearing Boyd's head slam back. Soon enough, the two were fighting violently in front of everyone. The principle soon caught them and sent them to the office. Michael left the room with a black eye and blood coming off from his lip, looking to see Amber running off into the bathroom, weeping uncontrollably.

_Great. Now look what I did. I couldn't control my anger for one second and I scared her. Now she'll never talk to me! Argh. I'm such a moron! _

_ No. Boyd deserved every bit of the punch I gave him. He's been bothering Amber ever since she came here; he deserved more than what I gave him. _

_ One more time… If he does one more thing to make me want to stab him again… He'll get something more than just a punch. _

_ …And that's a threat. _


	5. Chapter 5

Mr. Trion, the Junior High principle, eyed Michael with a strict look. "So you attacked another student?"

Michael frowned. "Sir, he spilled water on Amber. Plus, he attacked me first."

"Yes. Boyd has the personality of a fighter… I could tell at first glance," Mr. Trion looked over Michael's battered face vigilantly, "that he attacked you first." Michael nodded silently in concord. "So he's going to have after school detention and you'll have lunch detention."

"What?" Michael sat up in shock. "But I didn't do anything!"

"You attacked him back," Mr. Trion stated steadfastly, writing something on a piece of paper, "so that's just as bad as what he did to you."

"But it was self defense!"

"You attacked him right back, and we have no tolerance for that."

"This isn't fair! What do you expect me to do, huh? Sit there and let him beat the shit out of me?" Michael yelled, and Mr. Trion's face paled when Michael cussed. "This is bullshit! This school sucks! It sucks! We're allowed to fight back if needed!"

"You should've stopped him and got a teacher." Mr. Trion snarled angrily. "Do you want me to make you stay after school as well?"

Michael shut his mouth, despite the fact that his mind was raging inside. _Great. Now I have to come here every day…during lunch…wait! Who's Amber going to sit with? Oh God… she's so mad at me…_

"I thought so," Mr. Trion said haughtily. "So you'll be coming in during lunch for three days. If you're absent or just doesn't show up then I'll add another day. Get it?"

"Yes sir,"

The principal looked down at his watch. "Well get out of here. It's the end of lunch. The bell's going to ring in five minutes."

Michael scrambled out of the room, his eyes wide.

The first thought that came into his mind was:

_Now…where's Amber? _

* * *

Amber wiped the last remains of her tears on her face, gazing carefully back in the mirror in front of her. Her eyes were a little red and her cheeks looked pale.

"Michael," She murmured softly, sniffling, "why must you do that? Even for me?" She sighed heavily and threw the paper towel away, checking herself once more.

Satisfied, she walked out of the bathroom and back in the hallway. _Five minutes until the bell rings… Michael… I hope you're okay…._

Amber made it back to the lunchroom and hesitantly sat down at her usual table, seeing Michael's food demolished from Boyd. She glanced behind her. Good. He went off to the principal's as well.

"Your makeup's messed up," A girl told Amber as she walked by.

Amber shrugged and smiled. "Well oh well. I'm not wearing any makeup so that's not likely." Amber was bemused when the girl began laughing uncontrollably and walked off. She lifted an eyebrow but shook it off.

Amber fumbled with her fingers, seeing her light pink nail polish decorating her nails. She hummed lightly under her breath, tapping her foot edgily. _Hurry Michael…hurry…_

"Amber!" She looked excitedly over her should to see Michael walking hurriedly back to her. She gasped. His face held several callous bruises and his eye were red; the outside a dark blue color. She frowned. "Hey. Sorry for earlier."

"Michael?" She choked out, eyeing him unhappily when he sat down besides her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Are you okay? I'm sorry for making you angry. I just—"

"—you need to go to the nurse!" Amber insisted firmly. "Is it swelling?"

Michael shrugged, blushing from the girl's attention. "I'm fine—really."

"Those look serious, Michael." Amber told him. She longed to reach out and touch him but she held it back with complexity. "Maybe you should call your mom or something."

"It's nothing, Amber. I've had worse; trust me."

"It's my fault isn't it? I'm so sorry…" Amber felt the proverbial tears come to her eyes and her lower lip quivered.

"No! No!" Michael shushed her, darting his eyes around, and looked down into her green orbs. "It's not your fault. I wasn't thinking. This is all my fault—not yours. Don't even think like that!"

"So what happened?" She tried changing the subject, "Did Boyd get expelled?"

"No. He just got detention for the rest of the week." Michael said bitterly. "And I have lunch detention."

"You do? What did you do to get that?"

"I fought back." Michael shrugged stiffly. "I guess Mr. Trion doesn't like it when people fight back."

"I'll make it up," Amber said cheerfully. "Why don't you stay for dinner at my house tonight?"

Michael shook his head. "Can't. I would have to ask my mom."

"So? Ask her!"

"Sorry." Michael sighed. "Not today, Amber."

"Sorry," Amber whispered. Suddenly, she beamed. "Then can I come to your house? I've never been there!"

Michael froze. "You don't want to come to my house."

"Why not? I'm positive your family's just as nice as you."

_Yeah right! _

Michael gave her a straightforward look. "Look, my family isn't normal okay? Just…don't even come over. I don't want someone like you," His eyes softened, "to see a family like mine."

"Every family has their ups and downs." Amber said. "That doesn't make them bad ya know."

Michael crushed his milk carton sadistically. "I think my family's an exception."

* * *

Later that night, Michael was sitting down in his room, watching TV, when his mother walked in.

"Honey," She called softly, "I'm sorry to bother you but could you take out the trash? It's really full."

Michael made a face but agreed. "Fine." He walked easily down the stairs, passing by his older sister, and ambled back into the kitchen.

"Hey faggot," His step-father greeted with disgust. Michael ignored him and lifted the trash from its can. "Hey! I'm talkin to you boy."

"Shut up," Michael told him angrily, and dragged the trash outside.

"Ha! You're so pathetic you can't even pick that up. Nasty bitch," His step-father sneered hatefully. Michael, once again, ignored him and walked outside.

The nighttime atmosphere was fresh and spoke of fall coming. The Halloween moon shone down on Michael as he trudged through the weighty leaves on the ground, dragging the bag behind him without easiness. It was almost half his size so, obviously, it wasn't very simple. Leaves raked across on the road, dogs howled in the distance, and cats hung out in the shadows in the background.

Michael tossed the bag into the large dumpster and wiped his hands, breathing deeply. Turning back to the house, he began walking back when something stopped him.

On his doorstep…

A package…

Excited, he took off running and looked down at it. It looked poorly wrapped, some of the duck tape unglued. He eagerly picked it up and unwrapped it right there.

Inside, was a mask. Not just any mask, though. It was like love at first sight. Michael looked down at it with keen interest, seeing the pale face staring back up at him.

A slow but steady smile spread on his face..and he grew an idea that would change his entire life…


	6. Chapter 6

After staring down, more like gaping, Michael found a small note attached. He grabbed it and turned it over, seeing writing staring back at him.

_**Hey Michael, I really hope you like this mask. I found it in Wal-Mart and I don't know…I just thought you'd like it. I didn't want to stand by and let my best friend wear the same outfit he wore the year before. Hope you don't mind! **_

_** Your friend, **_

_** Amber.**_

Michael stared down at the girlie handwriting, seeing various hearts and stars around the paper. He couldn't help but smile when he reread it once more. _She called me her best friend…how come I'm not denying that? Perhaps we are best friends…I certainly don't mind.._

His eyes rose up to glance up at the house in front of him and he hesitated before turning to walk back into his house.

_Amber…sometimes I do wonder why someone like me deserves someone like you…_

_ …perhaps I don't? _

* * *

"Daddy!" Amber cried joyfully when her father walked into the house. She looked him over momentarily, seeing that he was somber, and dived into his arms. He laughed and hugged her back. "You came home!"

"I have to come home sometime," He told her gently, "to see my favorite girls in the planet."

_Why isn't he always like this? Why must it be just when he's not drunk? _

"How's school going?" He asked Amber and pulled away to set down his suitcase. Amber willingly grabbed it to take to his room upstairs.

"It's going good, Daddy. I've joined the book club!"

He patted her back, his eyes looking back into the kitchen. "Where's your mother?"

"She's making dinner. We're having macaroni and cheese," Amber began making her way up the stairs, dragging the heavy suitcase behind her. It banged loudly on the steps as she walked up, and she tried her best to pick it up a bit but her fragile arms wouldn't allow that. Eventually she set it down in her dad's room, immediately making her way downstairs. By one of the windows going down them; however, she caught sight of Michael in his yard. She stopped to watch him, getting more excited when he picked up the mask she dropped off at his house. She watched his face drop when he saw it then a smile rose on his face. She beamed. _Yay! He likes it! I was so worried he would think it was weird or something…_

Satisfied, Amber made her way downstairs, looking forward to eating dinner with her civil parents.

_…Hopefully he won't drink tonight like he did last time…. _

* * *

After dinner, Amber went up to her room to work on her English homework. She sat on her twin bed, with pink laced covers, and worked on it nonstop for an hour. When she was almost done, two more problems to go, she heard the one noise that made her irritated and chilled her to the bone.

Her parents fighting.

"I thought I told you pay the bills you little whore!"

"I did pay them!"

"Then why does this say you haven't?"

_CRASH! _

"That's trash, honey, calm down. I've already done the bills." Amber began shaking when she heard her mom talking carefully to her father like he was a wild animal. _Why must this happen so often? Is it that difficult to get along for one night? They act like they love each other when Daddy gets home then at night…everything changes…_

"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO THEM!" Amber flinched when she heard her father roar like a monster, and she crawled under the covers. "THAT'S THE ONLY THING I ASK YOU TO DO AND YOU DON'T DO IT!"

_ SLAM! _

Amber heard something shatter..tears came to her eyes…her body shook violently…she continued to listen to the violence under her…wishing she could help her mother…but knew it would only make matters worse.

_Please Daddy…don't hurt Mommy tonight… _

"Where's my daughter?" Amber's body froze when everything silenced. "AMBER! Get down here—NOW!"

Amber was out the door in mere seconds, running down the stairs. Her father had her mother by the hair, and she was on her knees with tears streaming down her face. Amber's heart broke from the sight before her…like it did every time this scene happened in front of her.

"Yes Daddy?" She whispered.

Her father nodded in her direction, yanking Amber's mother by the hair again. Amber winced from the pain coming across her mother's features. "See? She's sure compliant. She listens to me more than you listen to me." He slapped her across the face and Amber sobbed, a dry, tearless sob. "I WANT YOU TO FUCKING LISTEN TO ME YOU LITTLE WHORE!"

Amber took off across the room when they began fighting again. It was too much to take. She definitely didn't want to see this. She screamed when she could hear them cry out in pain, pulling her hair hysterically.

_Why can't they just get along? Why do I have to deal with this? _

"I'm sick of this," Amber heard her mother say, and Amber took a chance to look over the couch to see her take a large, thick knife, and dig it into his stomach. Blood came instantly and Amber cried out weakly, not able to look away now. Her mother stabbed him continuously. Her father fell to the ground in a heap, twitching from her nerves, and Amber watched as her mother stared down at him, panting wildly. Before she knew it, her father weakly, as if for one last revenge, punched her square in the jaw and poked her eyes. Amber looked away, finally not able to see any of this. It was like watching a horror movie but in real person…she was shocked when she looked over to see not one, but two, bodies on the floor, completely motionless.

Her eyes widened. _Are they dead? Mom? Daddy? Did they seriously just kill each other? _

Shaking violently, Amber stood up and had to concentrate on walking to see that, yes, they were both dead. She began sobbing at the sight, seeing both of her dear parents dead in front of her. _Did this seriously just happen? MOM! Please wake up! Please—don't leave me! What do I do? Call the police? _

Amber, still weeping, got on her knees and hugged her mother tightly. _This is probably the last time I'll ever touch her…_ She got her mother's blood on her shirt but she ignored it and cried desperately into her mother's chest, praying to God she would wake up and tell her everything was going to be okay.

She looked over at her dad and narrowed her eyes. He was the reason for all this violence. If only he would stop drinking then…this would've never happened.

_Great…now what's going to happen? _

Her mind came up with an idea. Michael! _I should go to Michael's…he'll know what to do…and he'll let me in. _

Amber, on wobbly legs, ran from the house and to her best friend's house. She knocked on the door loudly, crying uncontrollably, unable to stop. A woman answered the door. "Yes?" When she noticed the state the girl in front of her was, she gasped, seeing the blood. "Oh my goodness! Are you alright? What's your name?" Then she finally asked, "What happened?"

"My-my mom," Amber sobbed weakly, "she's dead."

Mrs. Myer's gaze softened. "Honey, what happened?"

"My-my dad and-and her had a huge fight…they're both dead." Amber began muttering, "Dead," Over and over again, shaking her head. "They're both dead…they've left me here all alone…"

"Mom?" Amber looked up to see Michael running down the steps, his blue eyes meeting her green ones. His entire face was concerned and Amber's body longed for a hug so badly, that she rushed forth and dove into his arms much like she did with her father, crying into his chest.

"Michael!" She cried. "They're dead! My parents! They killed each other..over bills…."

"I'm going to call the police," Mrs. Myers said quickly, running to the phone. Amber stayed in Michael's arms, crying weakly, feeling like her world just crashed down.

And this time, Michael had the heart to hug her back.

* * *

The police soon came and news reporters came to report on the gruesome scene that just took place. Amber was taken into the police station, after being ripped from Michael's arms and dragged there. She was asked a series of questions before a lawyer came and told her that she would either have to live in an orphanage or life off with her grandmother…who lived way over in Texas. Amber, of course, took her grandma.

She had one more time to see Michael. And he rode with them to the police station. He was furious when he found out that she had to move.

"No!" He yelled. "Amber, you can't leave!"

"I have to," She muttered, now exhausted from everything that's happened, "Michael, I'm sorry."

"You can't! Stay here! My mom can adopt you or something!"

"Frankly, that would be very odd." Amber smiled tenderly and wrapped her arms around Michael, beaming when he hugged her tightly to him. "Michael, I have something to tell you."

"What is it?" His voice was quiet and Amber knew she was breaking his heart…and she hated it.

"You're my best friend in the whole wide world," Amber told him softly, "I'll never forget you, as long as I live. I, uh," She blushed shyly, "I love you."

Michael stiffened. Amber tensed up, waiting for him to run away. "I, uh, guess I like you, too, Amber. A lot." She laughed, satisfied. _That's probably as close as it'll get…_ "I'm really going to miss you."

"Come back for me," Amber urged him, "don't forget me either, Michael. When you're older, find me. I'm not that hard to find." She giggled tiredly. "I'll be waiting…if you want to find me."

"I'll try," Michael said, full of doubt. How could someone expect for someone to remember them for years?

Amber smiled sadly. "I'll see you, one day, Michael. Goodbye for now."

Michael's throat tightened and tears clouded his vision but he held them back, needing to stay strong. He nodded stiffly as she backed up, gazing into his eyes. His hands began shaking; wanting to touch her one more time. _Kiss her…just let me kiss her…._

Then she was gone.

But he knew now that for sure, he was going to find her.

_This isn't the end, Amber. This is only the beginning. _


	7. Chapter 7

_****These approaching chapters take place ten years after Amber's parents died and she moved in with her grandma. I do hope you all don't mind, but the chapters will now be put in Amber's point of view, since she is the main character of this story besides Michael Myers, of course. She is now 22 years old and presently attending college. Thank you for the lovely and heartening reviews you have all left me and please enjoy :D****_

* * *

Nobody seems to detect people or things in the background of landscapes or rooms. They only appear to see the things significant or the prevalent or imposing.

I work in a well-known, proper five star restaurant, packed with billionaires or business owners. Not one person has said a word to me.

But that's honestly what I prefer.

Besides, I'm only the piano player. Why would they notice a mere musician? A performer?

My love for the piano has only gotten higher since I have moved here in Texas. I have fallen in love with the kind people and how sincere and open-minded they are; much like me. I fit in, that is, until I come to my work in this restaurant.

If one person would only look over in the left corner, hidden by faint lighting, and see a woman with lengthy, auburn hair, playing the grand piano delicately, and affectionately, as if not playing the piano—but being the piano.

If only, they would open their minds. But I know that's too hard to ask for at this moment in time.

* * *

"I hope you have an astonishing night," I bid my boss, Mr. Dunkin, in farewell, putting on my coat that my grandmother made for me in the 10th grade. I smile at him sincerely and turn my back to him, gathering all my belongings.

"What I want to know," He says, "is how you can play that stunning music without one music sheet. You come with nothing but your purse and clothing!"

"I need no sheet to follow," I tell him softly, nodding in his way officially, "I have it all memorized. Good night, Mr. Dunkin." I walk out of the dimming restaurant that is now getting close to vacant; no more people eating here tonight. I wouldn't blame them; it's midnight. Mr. Dunkin always enjoys reminding me that my shift is only until ten at night. But an accurate performer never tracks the time, and frankly, I always get more into the music I play than I anticipate to.

The night is chilly and a tender draft of wind tickles my hair that flows down my back. The moon is shining directly above me. A coyote howls off in the distance.

Even though I should be thankful for what I have, I cannot help but desire to have a car of my own. Seeing my grandma's aged BMW off in the distance, the repugnant green-like color standing out in the obscurity, I feel humiliated. I know it's very embarrassing to live with someone and not be able to support myself, but I grew up with no money left for me. Since my parents never wrote a will correctly, the government basically owned everything I previously thought I owned. Now, I'm hanging on with what I can buy now, getting money from playing in various diners or restaurants.

I'm not going to lie, I adore my job. I love playing the piano, my beloved instrument in the whole wide world, especially when I get paid for doing so. When I was a teenage girl, I was never able to even play it since my father forbade me from doing so. At exceptional times; however, I snuck in some playing time.

_Michael…Michael Myers…_

I shake my head. Yes I used to come to love a boy, one who was different than any other person, but now he was gone. I have had no way to contact him over the prior years but now, I've realized that I cannot linger on him for any longer. When I first moved here, I was in a drastic state of being. I cried frequently over the loss of a best friend. I turned suicidal. However, over the years, time has done nothing but revive me back to my almost normal state. Sure I will, can, never forget Michael. Nevertheless, I will try my best to not dwell back in the past for it is highly painful for me.

In a few minutes, I am driving back to my grandma's house. She lives right next to a large ocean, the whole backyard filled with the ocean water. I've grown used to the salty air and the dozens of seagulls begging for food from one's hand. It's not that intricate to live with; it was just the fact that my parents have died so radically.

The song that I used to play to him, well, I haven't played it in years. To be honest, I don't know if I can handle playing it. If you haven't noticed, I'm not the strongest minded woman on this planet. There are many things I will admit that I will never be able to do.

The quiet music on the radio was suddenly interrupted to a loud ringing sound. I quickly turn it up to listen to what was going on. The man controlling the station began speaking. "Police units advice any residents hearing this alert to lock all doors and get into buildings at once. A brutal murder of a man named Boyd Winston happened minutes ago over in Illinois and a retired doctor of a patient in an asylum claims that his old patient has escaped the institution with dozens of people killed and they have no idea where he is heading. If you see anything suspicious then please notify us immediately. Be careful."

When the music turns back I already have chills crawling up my arms. Oh dear. That sure isn't good. A dangerous man has broke loose from an asylum and is loose My mind then shoots back to grandma and I gasp, stepping further on the gas for speed.

Poor woman. She's probably scared to death.

* * *

"That bastard needs to get shot," Grandma says right when I enter the house. She has a large rifle in her arms and looks scarier than a man in my opinion.

"Grandma," I say, "what are you doing?"

She spits in a can. "I'm protectin' my house, see? Amber, baby, have you ever shot a gun?"

"No,"

"Come here—I'll teach you."

I back up slowly, "I don't think that's necessary."

"Nonsense," she snaps edgily, "come here and let your ol' grandma show ya how to use a gun." When she sees me freeze she exclaims, "There's a killer on the loose! Ya have to know how to shoot a gun."

"I don't want to shoot a gun!"

"Come here!"

"I said no!" I turn my back to her and go in the kitchen to get a drink of water. Grandma follows closely behind.

"I have to make sure you're alright in case that fucker comes," She tells me matter-of-factly.

I nod in agreement. "I hear he's dangerous."

"If he comes from a mental asylum then he's fucking nuts. Those nuts is what ya gotta be afraid of, girlie. Especially a young, beautiful woman like you."

I blush, knowing for a fact a murderer would probably shoot me just from my unattractive face. "Grandma, I'm not that pretty. I'm hardly considered normal."

"You're prettier than you think you are," She gripes grumpily, reaching out to roughly pat my cheek. I flinch from her quick movement. "I'd kill to look like you now,"

_Trust me; no you won't. _

"BOO!"

Suddenly, I turn around to see a short person wearing a red mask facing me, holding a gleaming knife in the air.

_Am I going to die? _


	8. Chapter 8

****Again, thanks for the kind reviews ya'll gave me, it makes me feel like…so happy. :) **

** I want to bestow this chapter to the people who reviewed to the prior chapter. I know I haven't putting any author's notes but I feel terrible for not thanking ya'll or anything. Anyway, I do hope you enjoy this chapter. If you also have some liberated time, please feel free to leave me a concise review.** **

* * *

Before I know it, I'm across the room, and I snatch the rifle from my grandma's hands. She screams as the masked man approaches on us and I run behind her, shrieking in pure terror.

"Let me shoot em'," She yells at me crazily, struggling to get the rifle from my hands.

"No, Grandma!" I shot back shakily, hiding the rifle behind me, "Violence is not the answer. You know I hate it."

"He has a knife, darling', a _knife!" _I know Grandma's a stubborn woman, so that's why I do a brainless move by tossing the weapon over the counter, hearing it land with a loud bang. Grandma slaps me across the cheek. "Are you crazy? That was our only protection against—"

"—hahahahaha," Laughter interrupts us and I look over Grandma's shoulder to see the masked man slide his mask off. I inhale in reprieve, seeing nobody other than our neighbor, Tom, who always finds it entertaining to scare us half to death. He points his chubby finger at us and laughs. "You should've seen the look on your faces! Priceless!"

I glare at him, even though I'm just happy that he wasn't the crazy man that was known for going around and killing people. Grandma; however, wasn't very pleased. "You fuckin' bastard! I'll go get my gun over er' and shoot you to death!" She literally takes off to get the rifle but I stop her with a tolerant smile.

"Grandma," I tell her softly, "why not be glad that it was just a joke than the real thing?"

Her eyes soften when she looks into me and suddenly Tom speaks up. "You guys shouldn't be afraid of me. Guess where I just went?"

"Where?" I ask, taking a step forward in interest. Tom's been all around the U.S. A, including several parts of Europe. He likes to take this long road trips for fun and see other places, which is his opinion. I personally think he's doing it to get some time away from his wife, which I think is just terrible. His wife's a lovely and benevolent woman, even though she's a little unreasonable at times.

"I just went to, what was it? Illinois or something. Dude, you would never believe what they have there!"

"I used to live in Illinois," I murmur in awe.

He ignores me, continuing on without another word. "I forget the town name but everywhere, there's this famous guy named Doctor Loomis who wrote this famous book. Something about the eyes of a psychopath or whatever. Anyway," Tom shakes his head, "so I read the back of the book, just out of curiosity, and see that it's a true story of a dude the doctor examines or whatever in this asylum. Man, this dude is wacky! You should see the picture!" Tom laughs. "He killed, no, _massacred _practically his whole family at the age of 14 or something! Can you believe it?" Tom slaps his knee like this is a mere joke. "I also hear his mom did suicide because his fucked his family up so badly. That's, like, the biggest news there man."

"Why do you find this humorous?" I demand wretchedly. "The boy probably is ill in the head! They can't just lock him in a cell and expect him to get better."

Tom shrugs. "The guy's a murderer, Amber. You definitely shouldn't feel any kind of sympathy on him. Trust me. If you see his picture, you'll see what I mean. I also read the first few pages and I saw that he was put into the asylum since he was 14 and he's like, 20 something now. Isn't that just _crazy_?"

Grandma shooed him with her hands. "No, Tom. You're a fucking nut. Now get the hell out of my house before I get my rifle for real!"

He ignores her. "Amber, want to borrow the book? It's pretty cool. I actually read a few pages. I tried giving it to Rhianna but she said no."

I hesitate. "I don't think I want to read a novel making fun of a poor, mistaken boy."

"I feel bad for your mother," Grandma snaps hatefully, running after Tom. Tom shrieks purposefully like a girl and runs away. "Get the hell outta here and if you ever do that again I'll—"

"—Grandma," I whisper weakly, "I feel bad for that boy."

She rolls her eyes. "Amber, honey, ya don't even know him."

I pause. "Well I know it's kind of hard to explain but..I feel like I know who he is…."

She gives me a strange look. "Darlin', you need some sleep." She taps on her head. "All this stayin at these messed up diners or whatever are messin up your brain. Get to bed, now. Scat. Don't you make me get my rifle now."

"Perhaps you're right," I mumble, unbuttoning the buttons to my blouse. I need to get changed when I get to my room, not in the kitchen. Wow. My mind wasn't thinking properly. She exits the kitchen to watch TV in the room. I hesitate in the kitchen to get a sip of milk since all this shocking news has surprised me to no end. I was parched.

"Oh Amber!" Grandma calls from the living room. "They caught the man in this gas station! His name was Stanley Dove. No need to worry now!"

"Okay," I wipe my mouth with a napkin and stroll out of the kitchen, giving my grandma a hug before I go to my bedroom.

Needless to say, I was asleep in mere minutes right after I changed into my pajamas.

* * *

When I wake up in the morning I decide to go grocery shopping. I met my grandma in the kitchen and she wasn't happy.

"What's wrong?" I ask in concern, seeing her red face.

"That bastard Tom," She seethes, throwing a book on the ground, "he needs to fucking move."

"What happened?" I eye the book on the ground nervously.

"He dropped this off in our mailbox this morning," She tells me gravely, her hands shaking from her fury. "I should go over there and punch him like the fucker he is…"

"Calm down," I tell her soothingly, bending over to pick up the book. I nod in her direction and shrug. "He did nothing wrong. Besides, I do like to read on my spare time. Perhaps this could be a good book."

"Look at the cover, Amber." She tells me gravely.

I obey and turn it over, and the image staring back at me makes me gasp, tears forming in my eyes.

Michael Myers.


	9. Chapter 9

"Grandma," I whisper, on the brink of an explosion, "I know him. I actually know him."

"What the hell do ya mean?" She demands, standing beside me. She looks down. Her eyes widen. "Oh damn. That's your little friend or whatever."

I cover my mouth with my hand, the air seeming to thicken around me. It's hard to breathe. My chest is aching. I think my heart just split in half. "Oh my lord…."

I was speechless—not able to utter one sound from my mouth.

"Well look how badly he's fucked up," Grandma muttered, taking a long swig of her coffee. "He did have messed up parents so I'm not surprised."

"He's in an asylum," I finish reading the paragraph on the back, "I must go see him."

"What're you nuts? Amber, the guy's a nut! He's like one of the men walking down the street yelling the world's gonna end or some bullshit like that." She snorted, clearing her throat rudely. "I ain't gonna let you go see that bastard."

"He's no bastard!" My lip quivered. "He was my friend…"

"Well now look at em'. He killed his whole family—I don't think he's gonna remember ya."

"Maybe he's sick…."

"Or in other words, fucked up."

"Grandma," I took a patient sigh, "he was the nicest boy I've ever met. He can't be bad. Perhaps he's just depressed."

"So what if he's depressed? Oh, I'm sad cuz my husband died I'm gonna run around shootin' people." Grandma stares at me long and hard. "That gives him no excuse whatsoever to kill anyone, especially his own family."

"You don't even know what his family was like."

"Do you? Since you were such good friends with him?"

I think for a moment. "No. I don't remember ever meeting them."

"See? My point exactly!"

"I'm going to see him," I announce strongly, making my way to the door. "I need to see if he's alright…"

"He's in an _asylum_, Amber," Grandma says hysterically, gripping me on the shoulders with her bony fingers. "Trust me—you don't wanna go in one of those."

"He needs someone," I whisper sadly, feeling nothing but guilt swell in my chest, "and I'm going to be that someone. I'm his best friend after all."

"No! I'm not lettin' ya go there! You're in Texas darlin', it'll take ya awhile to get there. Plus you'll need some dough."

I struggle to free myself from her hold, only in vain. "Grandma, I just got paid. Please….just let me go. I'll be right back. I promise."

"I won't let my only granddaughter," She says angrily, "be involved with scum like that."

I twist around, glaring angrily down at her. "Don't ever call him scum again. I mean it."

She holds up her hands in surrender. "My God girl, I didn't know you liked the boy that much. Fine. Do what ya want. But don't come cryin back to me when ya get to see what the hell an asylum is like."

I grab my keys. "I'll be back either tomorrow or late tonight."

"It's gonna take ya awhile to get there, girlie. Trust me."

"Well thanks for the advice." I smile brightly, forcing her to smile weakly back, right through gritted teeth. "Love you, Grandma."

She shuffles her feet in embarrassment. Never in my life has she told me she loved me. It's alright. My grandma's just a bit shy. "See ya around kiddo."

--------------------LATER--------------------------------------------------------

"I'm coming Michael," I tell myself as I cruise down a lonely road, corn fields on both sides of the road. "Don't you worry. I'm coming."

I think back to when we were kids and how we hung out. He's the only person that knew I was playing the piano at the time.

I loved him. And I still. I know that for a fact since every time I think of his face a blush rises upon my cheeks and my heart skips a beat. I know what this is; I'm not stupid. Hormones. Who cares? I love him. Simple. I shouldn't be embarrassed or humiliated. Michael's a good boy, last time I saw him that is. I just cannot seeing those light blue eyes killing his family. No. Perhaps this is another boy.

I pick up the book as I slow to a stop at the side of the road. Seeing the face staring back at me, those darker eyes going through my soul and his hair hanging in his face. My heart drops. Perhaps this is him and maybe he did kill his family. I actually only knew him for only a few months so I didn't know everything about him. I just hope he's not _that_ crazy, like this book says.

**The eyes of a psychopath…his eyes lacked something immense. No passion, sentiment, understanding, no **_**essence**_**. I have noticed these characteristics from when I first met Michael Myers, yet I never took great apprehension nor did I take control. I simply thought I would be able to tame him; make him almost vigorous once more. Sadly, as every day passed, he would grow darker into this great sea of obscurity; the abyss. I knew there was no way possible for me to reach him. It was over. And I gave in. **

The man was a very good writer, I must hand it to him. However, I lost all respect for him. He was basically making something utterly personal and confidential into publicly viewing—even stretching to writing a novel.

Poor Michael.

I narrow my eyes in anger as I flip through the novel, seeing reports here and there.

**June 23**

** Today Michael has made a mask. It's red with small holes in it, covering his entire face down to his chin. I ask him why he wears it but he simply replies curtly that it's a secret. I am curious of why he has to wear a mask. Why does he have to have one? He must make a new one at least once a week. At least I know another thing that I must help the boy fix. **

Masks? So what if he wears a mask. I used to wear them! Do I deserve to be taken to an asylum, locked up forever? I think not!

I grumble a bunch of nothing under my breath, pulling out onto the road once more. I toss the book to the passenger side, not wanting to look at it anymore.

Some doctor he is; showing off his "patient" to the world, disgracing him. Tears blur in my eyes.

"People these days."

------------------ILLINOIS-------------------------------------------

After a lot of hours (I lost count) I finally see the sign.

**Illinois**

Dozens of memories fill my mind randomly. I remember when I moved here, how happy I was, seeing everything so different than Texas. I watch as I pass by some buildings that look familiar. After awhile, I find myself hungry, so I stop at a diner for a half an hour. Then, I'm back on the road.

Before I know it, I'm entering Haddonfield.

The same street I used to walk to school on.

The same leaves raking across the pavement, rolling over themselves.

The same sidewalk on the side.

It was as if I was walking into the past.

I stop at one point in the road, turning to look.

My house.

Standing proudly, I scan over the aged brick of the house. The wooden door is shedding its outer layer of wood. The lawn is lighter, lacking nutrients. I can see a couple of cars parked in the driveway, so someone must have moved in.

Obviously.

I look across the street, seeing Michael's house. I smile sadly and drive out of there, not wanting to linger any longer.

One can tell Halloween is drawing near. Many people have decorations up or Jack-o-lanterns in their front lawn. I see a couple of children walking on the sidewalk and I pause to wave happily at them. They eye one another frantically, and then turn off running. I shrug. Time does change alright. If that was me as a kid, I would've waved back.

I get back onto the highway, looking around for a sign of an asylum. My heart soars when I finally see a sign, pointing to the right.

I drive there eagerly, nervousness creeping into my blood.

Finally, I find myself staring up at it, gaping.

Here I go.


	10. Chapter 10

I gagged against my will when I walked inside. It was similar to a hospital. With white, bare walls, colorless tile on the floor, and doctors running around. Good thing I came early in the morning, even though it's noon now.

"Hello," I greeted the receptionist courteously with a polite smile, "how's your day going?"

She only grunted in reply, flipping through her magazine.

I stood awkwardly in the hallway, my little body not matching the background at all. "Um, may I please visit Michael Myers?"

She dropped the magazine. I found her eyes staring up into mine, in pure bewilderment.

"What did you say?" She whispered, in doubt.

"I said," I sighed, "can I see Michael Myers?"

She chuckled under her breath and went back to her magazine, shaking her head. "That's a joke. Who in the world would wanna see _that_ monster?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. The man's nuts' crazy. He makes masks every day; for no particular reason. I've never even seen him but people say he's a giant."

Michael? A _man_? Whoa.

"Look, I just want to see him." I urged weakly, stepping closer to the desk. "I need to see if he's okay."

"'If he's okay?' Why would you need to see if he's okay? If Myers deserves anything, he deserves to just be put down or something. He'll never be let out anyway. Doctor Loomis will make sure of that."

"Let me see him," I ordered, angry now. "Please."

"Look, quit wasting your time lady. I don't know who you think you are but—"

"—I'm Michael's best friend." I declared without shame. "I knew him when we were kids."

"Well that's sweet." She rolled her eyes. "But what makes you think he'll remember you?"

I paused. "Michael's always had a good memory."

"Sure he has. Look, I'll let Loomis know who you are, and tell him to let Michael know you wanted to see him but couldn't. I can't let you see him anyway; order from the doctor."

"Fine. But don't blame me if I could've helped him." I had to get out of here—I had tears in my eyes.

"Good day. Oh, what's your name again?"

"Amber. Amber Rarrat."

-LATER-

I found a hotel and got a room on the top floor. Soon enough, I was sitting out on the porch, staring out at the sunset.

"I'm sorry Michael," I whispered painfully, taking a sip of my water bottle. "I tried. But people…just don't understand…I'm so, so sorry."

I sighed and picked up my cell phone. Better call Grandma.

"Amber! How'd it go?"

"Not good. They wouldn't let me in."

"Well that sucks. You comin home?"

"No. I'm staying the night in a hotel." My voice was emotionless, filled with misery and disappointment.

"You don't sound so good. You should come home darlin."

"I'm fine, Grandma. I'll see you tomorrow. Love you." I hung up, putting the phone back into my pocket.

Closing my eyes, I tried to erase my mine. Perhaps I should just move on and forget Michael.

But what if he never forgot about _me_? Would that be fair if I forgot about him and he never forgot me?

My heart compressed together. No. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to forget Michael Myers. Never.

-AT THE ASYLUM-

"Oh Doctor Loomis," The receptionist stopped the doctor while he got some coffee, pausing him in his steps. "A woman stopped by today. She wanted to visit Michael Myers."

"What's her name?" He asked, not interested. He watched the cup fill up with the dark liquid.

"Amber something." She shrugged. "She said she used to be best friends with Michael, and said she just needed to see if he was okay."

"Odd. I'll see if Michael knows her." Loomis sighed and put down his coffee, going back to the rooms. When he made it to Michael's room, he looked inside through the small hole.

Michael was working on another mask at his desk, his back turned to Doctor Loomis.

"Hello Michael," Loomis greeted, "sorry to bother you again. You had a visitor today."

Michael didn't look like he moved an inch, only continued working on his mask.

"Her name was Amber." Michael still didn't stop. "She wanted to see if you were okay. She must've came from far away because she had to leave. Michael, do you know her?"

Michael did nothing but work on his mask.

Loomis sighed. "Sorry to have bothered you. I guess Amber's not that important."

As he looked away, Doctor Loomis didn't get to see the sad yet excited smile cross Michael Myer's face, since his back was turned to him. That same smile never left his face, until later that night, when something important happened.

-BACK AT THE HOTEL-

It was around midnight. I was watching TV, drinking some wine. Sure I liked wine, but I never drank so much so I got drunk. In fact, I've never been drunk my entire life. I never took drugs unless it was medicine, nor did I do anything remotely bad for the health.

I yawned, leaning back, not caring how the nightdress rode up my legs, showing the creamy color of my skin. It's not like anyone was even in here.

My red hair was laid down, flowing past my shoulders. It was mildly curly, which was its natural state. I played with my hair a bit, putting it in a bun and then taking it down. That's one of my habits, you see.

_Knock knock._

I stiffened when someone knocked on my door. Glancing down at my "clothing" I shrugged and opened the door just a tad bit. A teenage boy, which was bigger than me in size, looked down at me. He was swaying, and I could smell alcohol dripping from his body. He smiled in a creepy way.

"Hi," I said hesitantly, offering a shaky smile.

"Hey," He nodded, "me and my buds are next door. Um, if we're making too much noise or something, let us know and we'll stop."

I relaxed. The boy was actually nice. "Okay. Thanks." I laughed nervously, the creepy feeling leaving my body. "Have a good night, sir."

"You, too, ma'am." He looked down at my nightgown, lifting an eyebrow. I waited for a perverted comment, my eyes going wide. "And, uh, if anyone comes to the door, I would advice you to put some clothing on."

"Oh." I blushed under his amused gaze. "Thank you…"

He chuckled and walked away, leaving me all alone. This time, I locked the door.

"That was," I told myself, "close. Too close."

I went to the bed and laid down, grabbing the remote. I flipped through the channels, seeing nothing that interesting on. Finally, I turned it down to a quiet sound and left it on the news. Closing my eyes, I began relaxing.

There was a door in front of me, which leaded to the room next door. Normally when people shared rooms it was very useful, but in this case, it was kind of scary.

I stopped breathing when I heard the boys next door, loud laughing and joking around. My body froze. They sounded out of control to me.

I almost died when I eyed the doorknob, seeing it turn.

Were they trying to get in here? Is it locked? Were they going to break in?

My eyes watched in pure horror as the doorknob began jiggling, and more laughter. I thought I was going to faint, and the sound of the moving doorknob never sounded so loud in my pounding ears.

I was too busy eyeing the doorknob that I never say an alarm going across the TV screen, or the news saying that a certain man broke out of the asylum minutes ago.

Finally, after minutes of pure torture, they left the door alone. I closed my eyes, still not hearing the news of Michael Myer's break out of the asylum.


	11. Chapter 11

I woke up, with a huge headache, and my face buried deep in the hotel's pillow.

"Ugh," I groaned, sitting up. The covers were all twisted and my underwear was showing because of the position I was in. I blushed and pushed my gown down, the blush almost matching the fiery color of my hair. "What a night…." I took one hesitant glance at the door in front of me, and satisfied there was no laughing now, I began making the bed.

It was when I ran my hands through my hair when I realized just how sweaty I was. I ran my hand down my arm, seeing the sweat glisten in the bright sunlight. "Why am I so sweaty?" I then looked down at the bed, seeing that I probably woke up in the middle of the night and threw the covers off because of one thing: it's _very_ hot in here, almost like there was no air conditioning. I frowned. "Well no wonder why I'm so sweaty. It's so warm in here!"

I made my way over to the air conditioner filter besides the bed, and looked it over. To my dismay, the temperature was the same it was last night—73 degrees. And normally when it was the low 70's I was freezing.

It was then I heard the wind.

Looking behind me, I gasped when I noticed something new.

The balcony door. It was open. Wide open. As if someone walked through here and merely left it open.

Feeling violated, I ran to it and closed it, the wind going away. I locked it for sure, and then leaned back against it, my eyes wide.

_Did someone break in here last night? Was it those boys? _

Suspicious, I looked back over to where all my belongings were and found everything where they were. I ran a hand through my hair again, feeling the curls tangling in my fingers. Great. I really needed a shower, and pronto.

"Whoever was in here," I told myself softly, "did nothing but walk through. No need to worry, Amber, you didn't get anything stolen. There's nothing to worry about."

So when someone began knocking on the door, I jumped and squeaked, diving behind the bed.

"Room service," A woman called from behind the door.

Relieved, I sighed and opened the door. The woman walked in with a bright smile, and I was shocked to see a young lady. "Good morning,"

"Good morning," I responded shakily, trying to look calm.

_Don't make it look like your door was just open all night….did I even close it last night? Maybe I didn't and just forgot…._

_ No I know for sure I closed that door. I'm positive. _

"I love your night gown," The woman told me truthfully, taking out a broom. "Where'd you get it?"

"Um, Victoria's Secret."

"The color matches you. I almost thought you were a model when I walked in." She laughed to herself.

I bit my lower lip. "Thanks, but boy you're wrong. Well I'm going to just….take a shower now…."

"There's shampoo and soap and everything."

I held up my bottle of shampoo and conditioner I also bought from Victoria's Secret (boy does that stuff smell good). "I already have some."

"Oh what kind is it?"

"Apple." I hurried back to the bathroom and closed the door, setting the supplies on the counter.

I turned on the water in the shower, feeling the hot water against my hand. I quickly stripped of my clothing, making sure I was alone (I couldn't help but feel like I was being stalked), and got into the shower.

I stood there in the middle of the water for awhile, getting used to the warmth, just when I opened my eyes and screamed.

Clothes. Right on the counter, the opposite side where I carelessly set down my soaps. Good thing I locked the door because that woman's probably wondering what just happened.

"Miss, are you alright?" She called, slightly worried.

"I'm fine, I, uh, just saw a spider." I answered unsteadily, my eyes trained on the clothing. They were grey and I didn't know what they were exactly. All I knew was that they were very filthy and had a few holes here and there.

_Whoever broke in sure didn't know how to leave without a trace. They failed in that aspect; that's for sure. _

Looking around frantically, I found that, indeed, nobody was in the room. Feeling invaded once again, I quickly put the shampoo followed by the conditioner in my hair. I no longer cared about taking a shower: all I wanted to do now was get out of here.

I jumped out of the shower, not looking at the clothes at all; I dried off as quickly as I could.

"Um, do you see any clothes out there by my bag? I forgot them." I said to the woman through the door, my heart racing as I tried not to look at the clothes.

_What if the intruder put a secret camera on the clothes and was watching me right now? Ah, Amber get the heck out of this place! _

"Here you go," She slid my jeans and tank top under the door, even though I wanted to wear my regular t-shirt I didn't care. Good thing she added my bra and panties because my other ones were all sweaty.

"Thanks." I dressed swiftly, not caring how I looked in the mirror. I ran my hands through my wet hair, some of the water making my tank top damp, and quickly opened the door.

"You shower fast," The woman commented lightly, washing the windows.

"Um, did you hear about anyone breaking in? Like, anywhere in this building?" I asked shyly.

"No. Not at all." She looked at me in confusion. "Why? Did you see someone break in?"

"No, I just….heard some noises last night." I put everything in my bag and hurried out the door, waving at the woman. Practically running down the halls, I went to the front office and paid them for the night. Soon after that, I was back in my car, pulling out of the parking lot.

"Glad I'm out of there," I muttered bitterly, trying to get the scared feeling out of me, "I don't think I'll stay at a hotel for awhile now."

Soon enough, the traffic was getting heavy on the highways. I sighed in aggravation and pulled to the side, going a back way. "Forget this. I'll just take a back road."

When I glanced up at the review mirror, I saw someone with dark, tinted glasses on their car pull behind me. I shrugged and continued driving normally, trying to ignore the odd feeling in my stomach.

When I was halfway to Texas, I looked back up to see the same car. They looked so weird just coasting behind me, not too far yet not so close.

Once again, I continued driving, trying to ignore the feeling, again.

Soon enough, I've been driving for a few hours. It was late noon, and honestly, I was getting hungry. I glanced back at the bag in the backseat.

"Thank you Grandma for reminding me to pack something to eat," I said cheerfully, putting on my turn signal. I pulled over on the side of the road, seeing nothing but corn fields, and glanced back.

My heart sank.

That car pulled over the exact same time I pulled over.

My hands froze on the wheel and my legs felt numb. Suddenly, I had the urge to take off driving again, especially when I couldn't see the face of the driver.

_Stupid tinted windows….why can't they at least make windows able to see through? What's the point of not being able to see through them? Seriously! _

It was like the person was just….waiting….

Waiting for _what_? Me to get out?

_Perhaps he's been trying to get my help for the past hours. Maybe I should go help him…._

_ Or maybe he's the guy that broke into my hotel room….or maybe it's even a girl or something…._

Getting enough courage, I turned off my car, opened the door, and stood out. My eyes immediately met the darkness of the person's car, still not being able to see through it. I prayed inside my head, going over my will as I imagined the person having a gun or something.

_Stay calm Amber….just stay…calm. _

I put on a careful smile and walked behind my car, getting closer to the person's vehicle. Still, I wasn't able to see through the glass.

_I seriously wonder if it's a girl or a guy. _

My breathing rate picked up as I got closer and closer, and soon, I was on the side of it.

As I peered deep into the glass, I could make out one shape. One simple shape.

A white, pale face, staring right back at me through two dark holes.


	12. Chapter 12

Okay, either the person was totally albino, or they were wearing a mask. I didn't take much time to look over the person, because I backed up, away from the car, and tripped in the ditch behind me.

Falling into the brittle and dry grass behind me, I struggled to get myself together. My ankle felt like it was twisted when I fell, and it hurt when I moved. I frowned. Great.

When I looked up, I saw the person towering over my trembling body, their dark eyes underneath the mask examining me. I opened my mouth to let out a scream, but nothing came out. I was guessing the person had to be a man, because of his height and just the way he stood: legs apart, his head cocked to the side. I saw a dark patch on his head, but I think that's fake hair that went with the mask. The mask looked familiar, but it couldn't be the one I gave Michael when we were kids because that one was different. It didn't have hair that really stuck up; the hair was painted on that one. Plus, the face planes were different than the one I gave him…

"C-Can I help you?" I stuttered, standing up slowly. I was careful to not lean my weight on the hurt ankle. I put on a pleasant smile, despite the terror in my heart.

The man said nothing. Instead, he began making his way down into the ditch, in turn, getting closer to me.

My heart picked up its pace. "Um, w-what do you want, sir?" I asked, limping back.

He continued his walk, taking slow and torturous steps.

"P-please," I choked out, tears in my eyes. I closed my eyes, hoping he'd just walk past me or something. "Don't hurt me….I don't even…know you."

My eyes opened when I heard him stop. When I looked up, he was right in front of me, his face peering down onto mine. I looked hesitantly into his dark eyes, not being able to grasp any emotion at the split second, and I gasped when he suddenly brought me into his arms, throwing me over his shoulder.

Wait…..what?

"H-hey," I gripped onto his sturdy shoulder for balance, my mouth agape. "What're you doing? I can walk ya know."

His hand grabbed my hurt ankle and I yelped, jerking it away. He walked quicker now back to his truck, and it was then that I realized that….I was being….

_Kidnapped_.

I began struggling, kicking my legs and pounding onto his back. I know I'm most definitely am not the strongest woman in the world, with my thin frame and petite form, but I sure tried. As we neared the car he drove in, I began softly crying, shaking my head furiously. I was never really a fighter….

"I don't understand," I choked out dryly, as he lowered me down like a baby as he opened the door in the backseat. He pushed me into the truck, and I obeyed, crying quietly. "What do you want? Did I do anything to y-you?" I was confused, and my ankle hurt really badly. "I-I think I hurt my ankle….it hurts." My voice was high-pitched from the raw crying, and when I looked up, the man eased me over two seats and grabbed my hurt leg. I got the wrong idea, thinking he was planning on doing something perverted, and started kicking again.

I could tell he was annoyed now because he grabbed both my legs, stilling me. My tears stopped coming and I stared up at him in horror, just waiting for him to do what he "planned".

I was confused again when he reached into the pocket on his torso of the mechanics uniform he wore and pulled out wrappings: for legs. When he pulled up my jeans leg to reveal my ankle, I took deep breathes. He unwound the wrapping and wrapped it around my ankle, and truthfully, it made me feel a little better. When he was done he tossed the wrapping into the grass, slamming the door to make me jump.

When he began driving, I was just about to thank him but realized that he was taking me. Why should I thank him for that? Instead, I watched the back of his head cautiously and hid in the corner of the seat, seeing him drive slowly down the road, with no emotion.

Well duh, how can he have any emotion with a mask on?

He was driving back to Illinois, the very way I came. I sniffled softly, brushing back my hair, and tried to stay calm. Who was this man? Why was he wearing a mask? I mean, I know Halloween was coming up, but it's not like Halloween was tonight. I looked up to see him watching me through the review mirror. I blushed and quickly looked away, knowing perfectly well he was still gazing at me through the mirror.

Why hadn't he just killed me yet? Why is he taking me? Where is he taking me?

I decided to keep my mouth shut as the man drove slowly, keeping my eyes trained out the window. The entire car ride was silent, but I could hear the man breathing through the mask. Wouldn't it be hard to stay in a mask for that long? I know for a fact it's hard enough to breath inside a wretched mask, nonetheless to even be able to have a good range of vision.

Hours passed and I found myself dozing in and out of sleep.

In one point, I dreamed of a piano. Not just any piano, but the old one at my house in Illinois. The one I played as a child. I remembered its sleek, perfectly painted keys that led to beautiful music. I could still recall the scent of the wood it was made of, or the way the seat before it made me feel so professional….

Before I knew it, I was humming my favorite piece of music lightly under my breath. I'm sure the man heard it but I didn't care; I needed some kind of noise in this car. I hummed my favorite song, Dearly Beloved, in my head and out through my lips in a whisper. I could imagine my fingers pressing on the exact right keys, getting the pitch just right. I did have to admit that I liked how it sounded on the piano better than my own vocal chords. I've played Dearly Beloved at the place where I play the piano, every single night, right before I leave. It's always been my last song to play…..

I stopped when my eyes drifted closed, and I let the sound of sleep overtake me.

-OOO-OOO-

MICHAEL'S POV

-OOO-OOO-

He knew the woman was Amber. With that fiery, blazing hair and those emerald eyes, he knew it was her at first glance. Her voice has matured, though. It was no longer the voice of a little girl. Now, it was the voice of a grown woman.

He liked hearing her speak. It was like music to him. But when he watched her fall into the ditch, he had to make sure she was okay. Truth be told, he followed her when he realized she tried to visit him at that wretched asylum. When he broke out of it, he easily found the hotel she was staying at and broke in to change into his new clothes. He accidentally forgot his old asylum clothes, and left her balcony door open. So he waited. He waited for her to wake up in his car in the parking lot, and knew all the clues he left her were going to frighten her into leaving quickly. Perhaps everything was turning out perfectly.

So he followed her. Right when she turned onto a back road he continued to follow her. He had to see her. He had to _be_ with her. All those lonely nights in the asylum of dreaming of her playing the piano was getting to him.

When Amber moved to Texas, Michael begged his mother to buy him the piano she loved. His mother obliged, only because it was Halloween and it was only 100 dollars, which was pretty cheap for a piano like that. So Michael brought it down to their basement and never bothered to look at it again, until the night of his murdering.

He glanced back at her, seeing that she was staring out the window. Her face was the same, although she evidently aged a bit. Her eyes held more wisdom and more kindness than before, which fascinated him. Her hair grew longer, falling past her shoulders, falling halfway to her stomach. She still didn't know how to fight, especially when he took her.

Michael wasn't planning on taking her. He was planning to tell her who he was. But when he looked down at her hurt ankle, and the fear in her eyes, he knew she wouldn't listen. It wasn't her fault. Normally he would've got so mad he'd kill her. But looking into those intense green eyes, seeing the same emotions he saw when he was a kid, Michael had to take her. Now he was planning to take her back to his house and show her who he was; he was that same boy who she was friends with. Sure he may be a killer; and had big plans for his so called family when Halloween came up, but Michael knew she was different. She would listen. Amber _always_ listened.

She may think he was a heartless man just wearing a mask, and half the time he truly was, but he'll show her….he'll get her to see who he truly was now.

He also didn't want her walking on her newly twisted ankle. That's why he picked her up to take her to his car; not to scare her, but to ensure her safety. Amber's lucky; she's the only woman who could get in Michael's way and not have him kill her. Michael just wouldn't have the heart to kill her.

His hands tightened onto the steering wheel when he pictured Amber's eyes narrowed in nothing but hatred and yelling at him. Now if she began yelling at him or attacked him….that may be different. She might not be as he thought she was. But he had a feeling she was a calm, and an understanding, compassionate person as she's always been. She wouldn't yell—she may cry, as she is now. But she wouldn't throw insults at him, that's for sure.

For the first time in his new life, Michael was giving kindness to a fragile, yet gentle and gorgeous woman.

And he didn't regret it. Not one bit.

Especially when she began humming his favorite tune under her sweet breath. Michael almost spoke right there, but bit his tongue. He didn't want to speak. He vowed to never speak again; and this woman was not going to be an exception. It sounded like heaven when she began humming, and Michael's "evil" heart swelled from the divine sound. Oh how he missed it. He could always picture it in his mind, the way she bobbed her head softly to the beat or how her fingers would twitch when she began, but it was never like _this_.

When she finally fell asleep, Michael pulled himself together. He felt like a pile of mush, just from the sound of the woman. Amber. Why did he have such strong feelings for her; this one simple human being? Didn't he hate all humans now; except children?

No. He could never hate this woman, only if she attacked him or insulted him. Especially with the skills she held, he wouldn't be able to raise a hand to that beautiful, forbearing face. Never.

He glanced back one more time, seeing her eyelids closed. It was then that she reminded him as…..an angel.

-OOO-OOO-

AMBER POV

I woke up right when we entered Illinois. I glanced around, seeing the masked man continue to drive. I kept quiet as I looked down at my ankle, seeing that this entire incident wasn't a dream—it was reality.

Tears came to my eyes again but I held them back. They would do no good in a time like this. I had to gather all my courage and use it, even though even I knew that wasn't much.

I kept my head bowed, to avoid looking into the man's eyes as he began driving into a neighborhood. I remembered this part of town. We weren't far from my own old house.

I was shocked when he pulled onto my street, and even more shocked when he stopped right in the middle of the road to get out.

"W-what are we doing here?" I asked him as he got out and opened my door. I squeaked when he grabbed me to pull me into his arms once more, but this time, he didn't throw me over his shoulder. He held me in an almost tender way, like a groom would do to his bride when they reached their house together for the first time. He walked along the sidewalk, staying in the shadows, and I held onto his uniform, feeling like a princess and he was the evil captor.

And it only got worse when we stood in front of Michael's house, especially when he began making his way to the front door.

Oh God.


	13. Chapter 13

"What're we doing here?" I murmured in misunderstanding, gazing through wide eyes at the building in front of me. When I snapped out of the daze, I saw the man just staring at me, with an almost considerate stature.

I lifted an eyebrow when, instead of yanking on my arm aggressively, he held out his hand which was filthy, covered in dirt and unknown other things, and waited for me to take it. I faltered, licking my dehydrated lips and testing his dark eyes through the holes in the colorless mask, and finally decided to just play along.

I laid my hand in his larger, more coldblooded hand and he enclosed his fingers over mine, holding my hand kindly. I didn't know what to do. I was always taught to be kind when someone was kind to me, but this man just took me off the road….

"Who _are_ you?" I whispered, dying to know just who he was. I stared profoundly at his mask as he led me inside, wondering what color of hair was underneath it. Silence was my only answer so I shut my mouth as we walked further into the house. I've never really been into Michael's house, but for some anomalous reason, I felt like I've been here.

I began to feel melancholy inside of me when I thought of Michael and how he used to live here. He always told me not to come to his house, so I'm assuming something was wrong with his family. Perhaps they lost a member at the time and it was complicated to get over?

I even accidentally muttered, "Michael…." making the man in front of me waver in his footing as if he spotted something. I looked over his shoulder to see nothing but a wall. Maybe he saw a spider…..?

It wouldn't surprise me if there were tiny bugs crawling everywhere on the walls. The place obviously hasn't been swept, mopped, cleaned in _years_. In fact, it looks as if there hasn't been anyone living in it for awhile. It smelled like dirt and griminess, which made it not easy to breath.

Suddenly, I felt something crawl on my leg. Looking down suspiciously, I let out a thunderous, bloody-murder scream when I caught a brief glimpse of a spider. Letting go of the man's hand for a blind moment to boogie around the room chaotically, stomping my foot, saying meaningless things, I cried out as the spider flew off my foot to hit against the wall noiselessly. I was still panting from the adrenaline and my heart was pounding as I continued to stomp around, petrified out of my mind.

I gasped when rough hands grabbed my shoulders securely, halting me from moving. Looking up, I saw the man towering over me again, his hands gripped onto my shoulders. Finding his stare tough to match, I averted my gaze to my shoes, which were deathly immobile.

"S-sorry," I grumbled, feeling like a child. I lectured myself in my head, hating my immediate choices instead of being composed. Once more, he said nothing and turned to begin walking down a hallway, leaving me in the middle of the room.

I felt thankful he wasn't tugging me around like a toy and decided to just follow him. Besides, I was quite inquisitive in why he came to Michael Myer's house in the first place. Stepping over bugs on the ground, while trying not to put too much weight on my hurt ankle (it was painful now because I previously stomped on it like a brainless chicken). My eyes watched him come to the end of the hallway and open a door, which revealed nothing but pitch darkness. He looked over his shoulder, as if giving me a signal, and I rushed forward, gazing strangely into the door.

"You want me to go in there?" I asked in horror, giving him a look. He nodded after awhile, waiting serenely for me to go. Sighing, dreading what I was supposed to do, I approached the inside of the door, the smell of griminess increasing rapidly. I jumped when lights suddenly came on in the room, exposing stairs leading down into another hallway leading to the right. I walked slowly down the steep stairs, making sure not to step into a cobweb. I could feel the man behind me watching the back of my head as I stepped lightly on the ground, leaving the stairs behind me, and scanned around.

There was a forlorn door a few feet away, staring back at me. I glanced uncertainly up at the man, seeing him walking past me, his patience probably gone. Without waiting, he opened the door up to reveal more darkness. I followed behind him as he entered, baring a thick knife, and lifted it in the air to slice a few spider webs. I gulped. Was he planning to kill me here? My face went pale from the thought, and I began backing up, until he looked back at me.

"Please," I begged quietly, "don't kill me. I-I don't wanna die…."

He actually looked disorientated for a moment, just watching me as if preparing to come after me. But after my feet failed to obey me, he shook his head and came behind me to push me into the room, closing the door behind. I began trembling, fearing my soon demise significantly. I pleaded with my eyes, praying he'd just let me go.

_He'll probably kill me just for a show….right in my best friend's house…._

He began approaching me leisurely, and my knees grew weaker. My heart sped up each step he took, as if he wanted to scare me even more. My lower lip quaked and I felt the raw sensation of tears approaching.

When he was almost towering over me, I let out my "final" words, "I love you, Grandma…" Then I added, "And I love you, Michael…wherever you are."

The sound of something hitting the floor rang in my eyes, and to my surprise, I watched the man drop the knife besides him. Dropping to his knees, he was still taller to me but only by an inch or so, and his eyes were my height almost. Hunching his shoulders, I watched in incredulity as he unexpectedly looked pathetic, giving me a hopeful look.

"Wha—" I began but silenced when he looked through his shirt pocket to pull out something. Something that made me gasp.

That mask. The same one I got for Michael Myers.

A tear escaped my eye and I felt my heart soar. Perhaps this man knew Michael? "H-how did you g-get that?"

He was motionless for a moment, and then he lifted a finger and pointed at me.

I felt my heart stop. "I-I gave it to you?"

I searched his eyes desperately, wondering if I knew this man. Truthfully, if I knew him as a child he'd be this age—an adult like me. My hopes grew when I saw those dark eyes change into a light blue color, and my face was traumatized.

Michael?

Could this man be Michael? My best friend from childhood?

"M-Michael?" I stammered, blinking slowly. When I saw the mask lift, from him probably smiling, I watched him nod.

Impulsive bliss swarmed inside of me tremendously. My heart swelled with happiness and I cried out in pure joy, forgetting that "Michael" took me off the side of the road, and I lunged forward to land abruptly on top of him, embracing him tightly to me, my head buried in his chest.

Just as I touched him, I found him on top of me, the knife digging into my cheek. I was so happy I didn't feel scared, even though I saw the demented look in his eye, and I laughed.

"Look at you _go_," I said in admiration, lifting my hand to lightly cup his masked cheek, softening my stare to compassion. I smiled brightly, "You don't know how long I've—"

He got off me suddenly, leaving me along on the ground, staring up at him as he turned his back to me. I scrambled to my feet, giving him a mystified look. "What's wrong, Michael?" He whirled around, looking almost perplexed as he clenched onto the knife firmly.

"I've missed you," I let him know, tears coming into my eyes again. This wasn't how I imagined our "reunion" to be. I thought he'd be happy. I thought he'd hug me romantically. Instead, he attacked me ferociously, almost digging a knife into my face, only because I embraced him. I bowed my head, feeling more tears come, and prayed they'd just evaporate. Instead, they come in large waves, making me sob mutely.

"Sorry for scaring you," I apologized weakly, giving him a remorseful smile. The tears continued to come, but I wiped them away the best I could. I could see Michael watching me, a torn look in his eyes.

I had so many questions to ask him:

Why did he kidnap me?

What happened when I was gone?

Why did he kill his family?

Did he just escape from the asylum?

And most importantly:

Has he _killed_ anyone—other than his family?

I was too busy in thought to see him in front of me again, feeling rough hands scrape across my soft, damp cheeks. Raising my eyes, I saw him trying to "help" me wipe away my tears, a regretful look in his eyes.

_He didn't mean to attack me. It must've been on instinct since I hugged him too fast. _

_ He didn't want to __**hurt**__ me. He was only going into defensive mode or something. _

"I'm just really happy to see you," I apologized again, feeling like a fool. "Sorry for, um, not—"

Suddenly we both jumped when a noise was heard. Laughing. Outside of the house. Michael looked tense and quickly left up the stairs, leaving the room in one swift move. I stood there silently, trying to tame my tears, knowing my eyes were puffy and red.

I gasped when my eyes then caught the looming figure in the corner of the room.

My piano. The original one.


	14. Chapter 14

Dearly Beloved 

**Hey guys! Thanks sooo much for the reviews! Since this hurricane Alex or whatever hit near me, I've had nothing more than to lay around since the rain outside limits me on my choices of what to do. T_T. Anyway, so here's an update! **

**Special thanks to: **BeautyFlames, tulip tea, Kohei93, JamesSaysHi, thedeathchandelier, Joker with the Green Scarf and ZanessaANDRobsten **for reviewing. You guys make me shine (sniffle), seriously. I wouldn't be here, well I probable would, but ya'll make my day! :D Thank you! **

**Announcment: **Joker with the Green Scarf** has an AWESOMe story called "The Devil's Eyes" or "Halloween Ask and Dare"! They're really good; I highly recommend them because not only is she my fave author for Halloween stories, but one is HILARIOUS! XD Please go check them out! :D **

**An extra thanks to **BeautyFlames** for beta reading this chapter. Thanks, girl! **

For a moment, I almost forgot I was in reality.

Only in my most spectacular, _wildest_ dreams, have I ever had the extraordinary opportunity to lay my eyes on that beloved piano. With its glossy, stainless stilted body, and musically talented hands where people can have the chance to generate tunes, it was nothing but a reverie itself.

I stood there for more than a minute, my eyes drinking in its ripened appearance, and then I began breathing once more. My fingers yearned to touch the keys, and the seat looked like it was welcoming me with open arms.

"No way," I breathed, too staggered to say anything else. I thought that perhaps—a slight, discouraging chance—that this was, indeed, only part of my dreams. That this was nothing more than a hallucination. And when I closed my eyes, it would evaporate into thin air, leaving only my memories to recall it ever even existed.

My visioning was broken when voices were heard above me. "What're you _insane_? He lives right there! What're you crazy? You can't go in there."

I stood mutely, my ears straining to be able to make out what they were saying.

"Oh yes I can." A girl responded, sounding appalled by the other person's warning. "Just hold my book. I'll be right back."

"That's the devil's house." I heard him warn again. I gasped, eyes wide. The devil's house? This, most certainly, wasn't the devil's house. Was it?

I never did get to ask Michael if he killed anyone. Sure he may be crazy but…..oh wait. He did kill people. His entire family—all in one night. That was why he was locked up in the first place.

I felt startled again. It's been more than ten years, and look at what's happened. I don't even _know_ this Michael Myers anymore. He sure wasn't the same, blameless yet troubled boy I've met as a child. Instead, he's currently known as "the devil" and people won't even come to his _house_, even though he doesn't live there anymore. That must mean something—if anything, it should signal a sign of danger.

"The Boogeyman lives in there." I snapped out of my disturbing thoughts when I heard a new nickname for Michael. I giggled silently. Really? How creative. The Boogeyman. How _fear-provoking._ They could at least come up with something…..more feral.

"Oh no, Tommy," The girl said in a chilling voice, which was completely, clearly fake.

"Don't even joke about it. I'm serious."

"I'm so scared. The Boogeyman!" She cooed, and I could imagine her rolling her eyes. "He'll come get me. Or maybe the wolf-man."

I stayed there in thorough peace, listening for anymore noise. After waiting for a few moments of nothing, I laid my eyes back on my "plaque".

I've got to thank Michael. It just had to be him who brought this back. How'd he get it anyway?

Curious and extremely appreciative, I walked carefully out of the soiled room, almost tripping up the stairs (which is possible, a proven fact).

I looked around, only to not be able to find him. Walking to the front door, I caught him just in time to find him watching the girl leave, and he looked pretty enthralled; as if he was engaged in a mission. In his hands was a letter or something, and I stood there and stared at him, being demoralized by his lethal height and his towering size.

"Michael?" My voice sounded lost, puzzled, yet leaked enthusiasm and overexcitement. A grin broke across my face once he looked over his shoulder, and I couldn't tell if he was aggravated, angry, or upset that I interrupted him. When his attention was centered on me, I gulped timidly, feeling so petite and defenseless in his piercing gaze.

"M-my piano," I whispered, breaking from his stare to look at his shoes. "I found it. Thank you, so much. I've wanted to see it for as long as…" I trailed off when he began moving closer since I could hear his hushed footsteps alarming me.

He stopped in front of me, holding the letter in my face. Looking up, I watched him giving me an informing look, as if he was trying to tell me something.

"Hm?" I prodded, waiting for him to speak. I wonder what his voice is like….

When he didn't say a word, only shoved the letter closer to my face, I finally understood. "Oh. You don't talk? At all?" With a shake of his head, I knew he was telling me the truth. "Wow. Well, what's the letter for?"

He tightened his grip, folding the paper on the sides from the pressure, and jerked it even closer to my face.

"Alright, alright," I backed up, taking the paper from my hand. It said a name, but it was nothing essential. Lifting an eyebrow, I looked back up at him.

He pointed at the door, his eyes holding this enduring look (which I knew he'd lose if I don't think fast), and nodded in my direction.

Seeing that I had no idea what he was talking about, he shook his head and dug around in his shirt pocket, bringing out a small paper. He shoved that into my face, making me gasp and snatch it from his grasp.

"Calm down," I muttered, ignoring the incensed look in his eyes. I looked down at the picture and almost gasped.

It was him, with his striking blonde hair and delectable blue eyes. I've forgotten how endearing his chubby cheeks were until I cooed and grinned up at him.

"Aw," I said in a squeaky voice. "You were so _adorable_."

I heard him inhale sharply and knew he was losing his patience and I looked back down, seeing a small baby in his eyes. The baby was so adorable! It had large brown eyes with an enchanted smile on its face, as if it was so content to be in Michael's arms.

I turned the paper over to see two names written on the back.

**Michael and Boo—19..**

The last two digits were too smeared to be legible, but I noticed the other name.

"Boo?" I questioned, giving him a probing look.

"Wait a minute…." I squinted as I saw how close Michael held the child to himself, or the joyful look in his eyes. "This is….Laurie? Your sister?"

He nodded, pleased I finally figured it out.

"Wow." I looked back down, studying the picture closely. "Your age is so….apart."

He took the picture back from me, digging it back into his pocket. I eyed him cautiously, wondering why he was letting me know this. He sure wouldn't talk, but he allowed himself to communicate. Does that make sense?

I suddenly felt my heart lurch. Grandma. She's probably so worried; calling the police or something.

"Michael," Without thinking, I grasped onto his right arm and stared up at him hopefully. "I _must_ go home. At once."

He shot me a perplexed glance.

"My grandma," I explained quickly. "She's probably so worried. The police will come looking for me."

_I've been looking for you, yet here I am begging you to let me go home. How ironic._

He shook his head.

I backed up, shaking my head. I knew I was speaking with a monster here (even though I still refused to acknowledge him as one, but even I knew the truth), but I continued to reason with him.

"Whatever you're planning won't work with me here. The police will come; I promise you that. And if they find you….." I trailed off, not meeting his silent stare.

I watched in horror when I finally noticed a large kitchen knife in his hand, and I didn't find the nerve to even speak when he raised his hand in the air, prepared to send a brutal attack on his newly figured target: me.

**TO BE CONTINUED! :D **


	15. Chapter 15

Dearly Beloved

_Author: YolandaFriella_

**Hello once again, Halloween fans! The story is coming along to its full extent, which is superb news! I'm in love with this so much that I'm thinking of making another banner for it. Oh, that reminds me. If you wish to see how I imagine Amber and stuff, I have the banner on my profile. I'm not an expert when it comes to art, so I use VEGAS, which is an awesome movie-making program, and I use it to make my banners. It's really fun! Anyway, so check it out if you wish. Also, I encourage all of you to check out what this story was named after, the song: Dearly Beloved. It's a beautiful piece of music, and it has nothing to do with me. I just chose it randomly because of its beauty. You can just go on YouTube or anywhere and look up "Dearly Beloved". It'll probably show a picture of Kingdom Hearts, which is where the song came from, and I like the shorter version where it's the orchestra. However, the full version is the piano one, and it's amazing as well. So check that out, people! **

**Many thanks to my lovely reviewers: **Cat Food Chick, Sayiou 12, Kohai93, xDemolitionxLoverx, Acro111, Joker with the green scarf, and BeautyFlames. **Really, I know I say this a lot but I really mean it. YOU PEOPLE BRIGHTEN MY DAY! (sniffles from the dramatic moment) **

**And thanks to one of my most loyal reviewers, who stuck with me from the very beginning of this adventure, known as: **xDemolitionxLoverx** thanks sooo much. Really. I really appreciate all your reviews, girl! This chapter is dedicated to all the people who actually read my notes (which I hope is alot T_T_. Well, enough of my rambling, here's the story! **

* * *

My body froze in complete terror as, comparable to the speed lightning traveled, Michael's knife glinted in the dim lighting, the sharpness of the knife shimmering in my vision, and before I knew it, I was whimpering vulnerably, my shoulders hunched forward in a pathetic composure and my eyes tightly closed, waiting for the pain to arrive. I waited for the feeling of being stabbed to enter my mind, waited for the knife to penetrate into my sensitive skin.

But it never came.

Cracking one eye open, dreading what I would see, I was shocked when I saw Michael silently stared down at me, his eyes composed. Opening both of my eyes, I shot him a bewildered look, wondering if I _did_ die but I somehow became a ghost and was separated from my body (like the movie Ghost).

I took a step to survey my dead corpse, only to find I couldn't. Something was stopping me from moving forward. Even more confused, I turned my head, expecting to see blood on my shoulder, but saw that my shirt was stretched.

"Huh?" I whispered, turning my head even further. It was then it dawned on me. Michael didn't stab me—he stabbed my _shirt_ to pin me to the wall. I stared up at him, still shaken from the near-death experience, and lifted an eyebrow.

"Michael," I said in a soft tone, trying not to make him explode like that again, "what exactly do you plan on doing by pinning me to a _wall_?"

When he didn't answer, only stepped back, tilting his head to study me, obviously appreciating his work, I blushed. Under his heavy, intense, sharp gaze, I couldn't help but feel _naked_. His eyes were so…..unique. They didn't just look at you; they looked into your very soul. I know that may sound sappy or whatever, but this is the perfect example. Those same feelings returned— the same ones from when I was a child. Especially when Michael used to smile at me, upsetting the butterflies in my stomach and make them scamper, the same thing happened now. I was suddenly bashful with him towering over me….and for a moment, I wondered what he looked like without that mask on.

_What am I thinking? I was almost killed and all I could think about was how he looked under the mask? Am I insane? _

I stared up at him calmly, masking my expression to stone, "Michael. You _have_ to let me go."

I thought of just ripping my shirt, but remembered I was wearing a tank top (which made me finally understood Michael's skillful aiming skills) and knew that if it ripped, my shirt would be demolished. I would be left in my bra, and honestly, I didn't want to do that. So, not knowing what else to do, I stayed put, staring up at Michael as he stared back at me.

"You can't _force_ people to do things with violence," I explained gently to Michael, my eyes wide and emotional. "It just doesn't work. It only makes things more…..hectic."

I tensed up when I felt his rough, dirty hand land on my cheek, as if trying to sooth me. I stared up at him in confusion again, wondering what he was doing, as he gazed down at me, an illegible expression in his eyes. His hand was literally as big as half my face, touching my skin so delicately like he may break me with his very contact….

Suddenly, I knew exactly what he wanted me to do. "You want me to help you kill people, don't you." I didn't ask him; it was a statement.

I watched the answer in his eyes, and then the curt nod of his head. Gritting my teeth, I was abruptly furious.

"You," I spoke eerily calm, despite the rage swarming inside of me, "and I _both_ know I absolutely try to avoid violence at all times, so why," My voice rose, losing control rapidly, "would you even _dare_ to ask me to do something so….so… wrong? What would ever make you even c_onsider_ asking me if fighting separated us? Hm? My parents _killed_ each other, Michael." I was now choking on tears, having ignored this sore subject from my grandma for years, and when I was suddenly thinking about it, remembering their cries of pain and betrayal, the hurt I hid reawakened and was ten times worse than it was when it happened. "Do you understand that? They fought because they were sick of each other—sick of arguing. So they fought. And let me ask you something." I lowered my voice, my lip quivering, finding myself not afraid of Michael Myers, the child killer of Illinois. However, in my mind, he was my _best friend_. "Did fighting solve _anything_? No. It only ruined my childhood."

I let my words sink in for a moment, seeing Michael's eyes disturbed for a moment, remembering that day perfectly well, and then I whispered:

"So no. I refuse to help you kill people, no matter how much they hurt you. I'm sorry Michael, I just…."

Unexpectedly, he snapped, like a twig breaking. The tension was built up, the pressure overwhelming him, and he snapped. I heard an animal-like growl come from him, and watched in horror as he whirled around, stabbing random furniture around him. It was then my eyes fell upon what a true murderer was, and how much damage he could do. Michael managed to brutally destroy a dresser, his knife helping him in the process, and kicked over a few chairs, stabbing holes into them viciously as well. I merely watched with wide, shocking eyes as my best friend beat the living crap out of poor, innocent objects surrounding him.

I watched as Michael Myers unleashed his fury, and boy, I felt sorry for whoever crossed his path during his fury-modes.

I kept my mouth shut as I waited for the storm to pass over, relieved when he suddenly stopped _stabbing_ things and just stood in the middle of the room, panting from the adrenaline rush. His hand grasped tightly onto the knife, his knuckles pure white from what I saw, and his head hunched over. He looked exposed; as if all his energy left his body.

_Attack him! Escape! Now's your chance, Amber. _

My mind screamed at me to take advantage of this moment and hurt Michael in order to escape. But even I knew I would never be able to do that. I just would never be able to forgive myself if I dared to hurt someone I cared about….

So I did the one thing I did best: I forgave him.

Not caring how badly I tore my shirt, revealing my bra and belly, I broke free from his pinning, which was actually just a random fork (which he probably hid in his pocket) and made my way to Michael.

I felt chilly and scared that not only was my skin bare, but I've never, ever showed my chest to someone. However, I knew that right now, Michael Myers needed me more than he's ever needed me before.

Hesitant and vigilant, I stepped around him as if approaching a horse, staying a few feet away from his body. He took notice of me with only a stare, seeing I broke free and my shirt was ruined, but there was no perverted gleam in his eyes; there was only misunderstanding apparent, wondering what I planned on doing.

"Come here," I whispered, giving him an encouraging smile, and spread my arms, waiting. I hoped he would come willingly into my arms (well that he'd embrace me because he's obviously bigger than my petite frame) so I wouldn't have to be the one to come at him, in fear of surprising him again. I held my breath as he stared at me, a cautious look in his eyes, and licked my lips nervously. "I don't have a knife or anything….I just thought you needed a hug."

I personally did think that a miracle would suddenly come and Michael would run into my arms, hugging me romantically, or nonsense like that. But I was wrong. Instead, it felt highly awkward as I stood there motionlessly, my bra glistening in the open air, and my smile freezing on my face. Michael made no move to hug me; nor did he look like he needed to.

_He's cautious….he doesn't want to lose control again and hurt me. You're not being rejected, Amber, you're just….._

Rejection flood inside me drastically, and I let my hands fall limply at my sides, quickly looking away from Michael. With as much pride I had left, I tried to pull my shirt back together, only to have it part once I let it go. I sighed, standing there, half naked, with a wild blush on my cheeks.

"Never mind," I muttered glumly, goose bumps forming on my arms. I had the tempting urge to crawl under a rock….and never return.

The rejection only greatened when Michael left the house without another glance, as if the mere sight of me was painful to him.

* * *

I decided against leaving, because clearly, there was someone waiting for me in the basement….

The piano was in great shape, having only a thin layer of dust clouding its main features. After blowing away the dust, swatting it away from invading my face, I took a seat on the bench, my hands instinctively hovering over the stunning keys.

_"How long have you been playing?" Michael asked curiously._

_She paused to answer, flexing her delicate hands. "I have no idea. Daddy won't let me play the piano because he," She sighed, "wants me involved more into school stuff. Like clubs or after school tutoring." She then lowered her voice sorrowfully, "If he catches me playing…."_

_"What?" Michael demanded edgily. __Please let her tell me what he does to her! Does he beat her? __"Does he hurt you, Amber?"_

_She smiled faintly, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter." Suddenly, that same tune she was always humming was being played softly yet loudly in front of him. Transfixed, Michael gazed down at her hands when she played so fluently that it looked as if she was part of the piano. The melodramatic melody lodged heavily into his mind and Michael listened closely, too afraid that she would stop and he would forget it._

_She seemed… Like a professional player. Michael, least to say, was more than awed. He…. Just was in complete and utter wonder of how well she played. __I had no idea….. _

_Michael didn't even know when she was finished. He lost all of his thoughts. The only time he realized she was done was because she was gazing at him._

_"What's it called?" He found himself asking, his voice barely above a soft murmur._

_Michael was shocked when her fingers traced softly along his face, very similar to what a lover would do to the other, and a blush rose across his cheeks. Normally he would stop someone from doing this but knowing what those hands could do…. He leaned further into her lovely touch. "Dearly Beloved," She told him soothingly, "that's what it's called."_

I smiled fondly at the memory, remembering how I felt Michael's curious gaze on me the entire time. Shivering, I glanced besides me, half expecting Michael to magically return and be normal again, but saw nothing but an empty space.

I frowned, pain entering me once more. Whatever happened to him? He's so…..dangerous now. I can barely even touch him without setting him off….

Without even knowing it, my fingers began dancing on the keys, playing the song that plagued my dreams ever since Michael and I've been separated: Dearly Beloved. I played it leisurely, keeping it in perfect pace. Closing my eyes, I felt all my emotion pouring into this magnificent instrument, in turn, the miraculous sound being the result.

I lost track of time as my fingers moved faster, going onto the more passionate part of the song, the meaningful part. I didn't play this part for Michael years ago, I just recently found the notes for it on the internet, and I managed to memorize them flawlessly.

I felt alive again. All those years of dull, meaningless playing for complete strangers added up, and finally, I played for the first reason I ever learned: to release my emotions. The piano indulged my raw pain, and formed it into something beautiful. A miracle was happening before my very eyes.

Finally, after finishing it dramatically, I froze, my eyes glued to the keys, my vision blurring. It was then I heard my soft sobs, and the racking of my body. It was then I acknowledged the fact I was _crying. _

"God," I whispered painfully, bowing my head to hide the tears that fell unwillingly down my cheeks. "What's happening? Michael…..what do I do?"

I didn't know what to do. I wanted to help Michael….but what he wanted was for me to kill innocent people. I most definitely would never do it, not even if someone kindly paid me. Just the thought of someone dying….sent me over the edge.

But would he do it for _me?_ Would he do something irrational to him if it meant to help me? I could picture him doing something that I wanted him to do in order to help me….and I then felt guilty.

Am I a bad friend? Would it mean I was a good friend if I helped him do wicked things in order for him to be happier?

Could he ever _be_ happy?

I jumped in horror and mortification when I heard a soft intake of air above me. Looking up, I found myself staring up at Michael, his eyes trained on my face, gazing at the tears glistening against my cheek. My mouth opened in horror, and I stammered to speak a legible sentence.

"H-how long have you b-been standing there?" I stumbled bashfully, frenetically wiping away my tears. I knew the answer. He heard me play the piano, and he also watched me _cry_. Good God.

"I—"

I stopped speaking when something was dropped in my lap. Looking down, I stared blankly at a t-shirt lying in small heap before me, the color of light purple looking abnormal against my pale, skinny legs.

"Is this for me?" I asked quietly, just to make sure, trying to comprehend this.

He nodded, watching my reaction.

I grinned weakly, my eyes red from the crying and my face still damp, and looked at the shirt, picking it up. It looked about my size.

"How'd you get it…." I trailed off, my eyes widening in revulsion. "Did you kill someone for this?"

When he shook his head, I sighed in relief. I would never wear a shirt that belonged to someone once living. Never.

"Thanks." I casually slid off the poor remains of my ruined shirt and slid through the shirt Michael helpfully brought me. It fit me perfectly, even though it was a bit too large at the arms, since it was long-sleeved, but I appreciated it anyway. I gave another grin at Michael as I began to stand up, only to have him push me back onto the bench.

"Hmph?" I choked out, fear taking my body. He was stronger now…that's for sure.

His knife went into my vision, appearing in front of my face. My reflection stared back at me, my face pale and my eyes puffy, my hair wild from all the tousling, and I stared back in fear.

"What are you doing?" I asked timidly, my breath halting. His hand gripped onto my shoulder, as if trying to tell me something.

"Look," I finally gave in, my voice shaking. "I'll help your little plans, okay? But I won't physically kill anyone, and keep in mind that I don't like the idea of this at all." I turned around slowly, peering up at him with a genuine smile. "But….if you want my help, then so be it. That is, after all, what best friends do right?"

His eyes looked happy as he withdrew the knife, giving me another look before turning around and walking out of the room.

I followed closely behind, knowing that my night was going to be busy. Really busy.

**TO BE CONTINUED! :D **

**You better thank me for not leaving a cliffy (shakes fist threateningly with a joking grin). I feel nice today :3 **


	16. Chapter 16

Dearly Beloved

_Author: YolandaFriella_

**Hello once again! This chapter was, for some reason, difficult for me to write. I kept on redoing it, and then redoing it once more. T_T Sorry if it's not the best, but I needed this to be a filler because it's not exactly nighttime yet! But the next chapter will be FULL of shocked things, I promise! *grins nervously* just have faith in me please! Hehe **

**Thanks to my SUPER SPECIAL reviewers: **Marnie Wolffe, Joker with the Green Scarf, Nanoe, Cat Food Chick, SailorBoo, Strawaltz, Acro111, ZanessaANDRobsten, darklight182, and Kohai93.** Have I failed to mention you people light up my day? Well if I did, then YOU PEOPLE LIGHT UP MY DAY! **

**A special thanks to **Kohai93 **for her amusing and thrilled reviews! Thanks so much, girl! Your review especially made my day. :) **

* * *

"So, let me get this straight," I whispered, leaning forward in the car, my hair brushing against my arms, and stared through the window. "You want me to somehow….find out where she _lives_?"

Michael wasn't looking at me. He was studying his sister solemnly through the window, his white face nearly invisible through the darkly tinted windows. But as I finished my question, he turned back to me and nodded.

I frowned. "Look, I make friends the right way. And to make friends, Michael, that takes time. Time _and_ patience. You can't just expect me—"

My eyes widened when I saw his eyes narrow through the mask and I faltered in speaking, my words suddenly weaker.

"—to do this." I sighed and quickly looked away, feeling his eyes on the back of my head. "I'm not a stalker, Michael. Sure I have many, many faults. But stalking is most definitely not among them." I glanced behind me, seeing him giving me a meaningful look as his sister split from her two friends, one getting in a police car that appeared from nowhere, and the other parting ways. "Fine. I'll be back."

I got out of the car, putting a casual expression on my face, despite the fact Michael Myers was watching my every move, and made my way across the road.

It was getting late. Close to the evening.

The trees' shadows were feeling chillier as I inhaled deeply, smelling candy and the smell of Halloween in the air. I've always enjoyed Halloween so much, just by seeing everyone having fun. A leaf fell from a tree above me and landed on my head, in return, making me shake it off.

Michael's sister, Laurie, was walking on the sidewalk, her eyes on the floor. She was a delectable teenage girl. With intellectual glasses and a tiny, thin frame, she was as innocent as they came. I sped up, coming onto the sidewalk now, my eyes trained on her back.

"Hey," I was shocked, and jumped, when she suddenly turned around, giving me a suspicious look. "Are you following me?"

I hesitated for a moment, almost doing what I did most in these situations: say the wrong thing. Fortunately, I managed to regain my composure and I grinned my sweet smile at her, offering an innocent demeanor.

"Of course not." I told her, laughing a little. "I was just wondering…." I trailed off, wondering what to say. And then, out of the blue, I blurted, "I was wondering where the Myer's house is."

She turned fully around, a handful of books in her arms, "Huh?"

I shifted my feet awkwardly. "Um, yeah don't you know? The Myer's house…."

"Why would you _want_ to go there?"

I shrugged lightly. "I heard it's…legendary."

A grin broke across her face, and inside, I did a victory dance. "Well, the kids say the 'devil' lives there. It's totally fake. Someone just abandoned it awhile ago—there's nothing close to paranormal there but a bunch of dust."

"Oh…"

"Not to sound rude or anything," She moved closer uncertainly, "but….do I know you?"

I gave her a confused look. "I…I've never seen you before."

She studied me, her eyes raking over me, and I blushed. Once again, just like Michael, her eyes were sharp and mind-boggling. I guess it ran in the family. "Well…see you around."

She began making her way back, turning her back to me, and I gave up, turning around as well. But when I saw Michael's car a few feet from me, and saw that white mask, I knew he'd be disappointed if I came back empty handed.

Biting my lower lip, I jogged towards Laurie, grabbing her shoulder to turn around. She yelled a little and jerked away, giving me a startled look.

"What is your problem?" She demanded, shaken up.

I avoided her eyes. "I, um, need to use a phone."

She shook her head, giving off a bitter laugh. "That doesn't mean you can just _scare _me to death, you know."

"Sorry…it's kind of urgent."

She finally chuckled sarcastically, walking again. "Fine. I have a phone at my house. Come on."

I blinked in shock. Wow. It was _that_ easy?

Feeling guilty for lying, I followed behind miserably, a frown on my face. My thoughts swerved as I followed her, going back to Michael. Was he still following me?

They went back to Laurie Strode. She really reminded me of myself. Naïve, and too nice. If I was some kind of—

"Are you alright?" Her voice broke my thoughts. I looked up to see her walking besides me, studying my face. "What's with the sad face?"

I brightened up instantly, shrugging. "It's nothing. Sorry if I bothered you."

She gave me another weird look but jogged forward as we crossed the road, and she went onto a lawn. I looked around. This had to be her house. I saw her mother trying to put Halloween decorations up but was failing miserable. I stood in the background and watched in awe as the two got along, the mother looking frustrated and Laurie laughing.

I wish I had a childhood like hers….

"Oh and can she use our phone?" Laurie asked, suddenly noticing me standing there. I grinned and waved vibrantly.

The mom barely looked at me, offering me a wave in return. "Of course she can. Go let her use the house phone, Laurie."

"Okay." She motioned towards the house. "Come on. I'll show you where it is."

I followed behind her hesitantly, feeling like a criminal once more for lying. The house was decorated for Halloween, candy in glasses around, and it was so peaceful looking.

Shaking off my other disturbing thoughts, I smiled in gratitude when I saw the phone before the fireplace.

"Thanks,"

Laurie shrugged. "Any time. What's your name?"

I paused, wondering if I should just tell her my real name. "Um, it's Amber."

"Nice to meet you."

"Laurie!" Her mother called from outside again. "Can you help me? This stupid thing won't…."

"Hold on." She looked back at me questioningly. "Do you mind if I help her out?"

I laughed. "No of course not. I just need to call my grandma…"

"Okay. Good luck!"

* * *

Grandma didn't answer.

Neither did Michael.

"She lives over in that house," I told him, pointing at the house. He gazed over there, probably already knowing that, and turned the car back on.

We sat in total silence for awhile as Michael drove by slowly, watching Laurie help out her mother, and then we were off.

"You're welcome." I grumbled, sighing to turn out the window. I didn't know where the sudden frustration came from, but I didn't like it. I seldom was ever even in an irritable mood.

Once again, my oblivious mind imagined Michael reaching over to hold my hand tenderly, like a boyfriend or lover. But when I saw he was gripping the steering wheel with both his hands tightly, I knew it was nothing but a fantasy.

But a woman can dream, right?

"She's a nice girl," I commented, talking about Laurie. I turned to look at Michael, who didn't even risk a look down at me, and I sighed again.

I kept my mouth shut again, staring out the window longingly. People were already out to go early trick-or-treating. It was mainly little children with their mothers because the teenagers normally went late at night, in the dark.

Michael stopped in front of a bakery and I shot a confused look at him.

"What are we doing here?" I whispered, seeing him finally turn his head to look at me. It then dawned on me when my stomach growled. "Oh… Thanks. I'll be back."

I got out from the car and went into line, seeing the bakery was outside with tables around, people eating. Awhile ago, I checked my pockets to remember I accidentally left some money in them. Fifty dollars, to be exact.

"I'll get a pizza," I told the young, Italian man with a grin.

"What kind?"

"Cheese please." I waited patiently as I held out the money, but was confused when he shook his head with his crooked smile. Honestly, he wasn't bad looking. With a narrow, yet silly face and a slender body, he could be considered handsome, if Michael wasn't watching my every move.

"It's on the house," He said smoothly. "I can't take money from a beautiful woman like you."

I blushed, feeling people watch me with envy, probably wanting a meal for themselves, and I nibbled on my lower lip. "Well….thank you." I surely wasn't used to this kind of attention.

"Hurry up!" A man shouted behind me angrily. "Just because you're checking her out doesn't mean _we_ have to wait." People agreed with nods and complaints.

"Sorry ma'am," The man took my money with an apologetic smile. "Gotta follow the rules."

"I understand." I took the change and stuffed it into my pocket, waiting over on the side for my pizza to come out. The place smelled divine. My mouth was practically watering from the intense smell of food.

"Here you go," A woman handed me my pizza box, "have a happy Halloween."

I nodded in agreement and quickly made my way back to the car, not looking into the windows. Just as I opened the door, a hand reached out to grip onto my wrist and I was jerked inside, closing the door swiftly in one single movement.

Michael looked furious.

"Michael?" I breathed, holding onto the pizza box securely. "What's wrong?"

I almost laughed when he brought his knife and pointed it accusingly at the Italian guy, but held it back when I saw fire raging in his eyes. Oh Lord.

"He was being nice," I stammered quickly, shrinking back as Michael's grip on the knife tightened. "There was nothing—"

I stopped myself when he suddenly gripped my chin forcefully, making me look into his eyes. They seemed to be a bit calmer, but were still disturbing. We stared at each other for awhile, me not having the nerve to look away, and him just gazing at me. My breath was taken away as he laid the knife in his lap and lightly touched my neck, wrapping his large arm around it.

"Please," I whispered, fear flashing in my eyes as he leaned closer.

This is the end….I'm going to die. Michael's going to _choke _me to death.

My entire sense of thought was halted when Michael pressed his masked lips against mine abruptly. My arms stayed locked at my sides as he moved me closer by the neck, his lips cold and emotionless against mine. I was too shocked to even _move_ before he pulled away, driving like nothing happened.

I blushed deeply. I knew what that meant.

That meant I was _his_, and his only.

**TO BE CONTINUED (obviousl****y)**


	17. Chapter 17

Dearly Beloved

_Author: YolandaFriella_

**Sorry for the long wait! Seriously, it's been what, a month perhaps? I truly am sorry, I didn't know it would take me this long to write this chapter. :) I hope you people have the heart to forgive me! :D **

**This story is coming to an end, a drastic end. You may hate me by the end of this chapter, or you may love me. I don't know what any of your reactions will be, but I'm eager to see what it is. This chapter will be a turning point in the story, leading to the finale. I will write one more final chapter for the story after this, and then it may end. I may make a sequel, and I may decide against it. Maybe you can all persuade me? ;) **

**IMPORTANT: If you see me update on previous chapters, don't think I'm changing anything drastically. I'll be gradually going back to edit them, and detail them just a tad bit more. Since they're kind of written long ago, when I was less inexperienced, I would just like to "pimp" them up a bit. So don't worry about those, I'm merely editing them over again! **

**Thanks to my reviewers: **Esanssi, xXxMudvayneGirlxXx, Acro111, diggydawg, Funky Slushie, Kohai93, Dramatic Ballerina, Cat Food Chick, tulip tea, Joker with the Green Scarf, thedeathchandelier, SailorBoo, Strawaltz, XDemolitionxLoverx, and Marnie Wolffe. **And wow, I must say, I think that was the most reviews I have ever gotten for a chapter in this story. I'm so excited now! Thank you all grandly! **

**Special thanks to **Funky Slushie**! Thank you so much! I always get happy when I see a review in my inbox ;p this chapter is dedicated to you. I like your new pename, by the way! :) **

**So, as you read this chapter, don't say I didn't warn you! I don't want any harsh reviews for I did mention this chapter was going to be SHOCKING! Thank you and enjoy! :D **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Amber Rarrat. Mwahahahahaha. **

* * *

"Michael, as much as I _want_ to help you," I told him, "I refuse to physically hurt someone. I'm sorry."

Michael, after hearing my rejection of his request in kidnapping his sister, lowered his head in deep thought. I sat on the floorboards a safe distance from him, eyeing him vigilantly, and my knees tucked under my chin securely.

Ever since the oh-so "romantic" kiss we "shared"—more like _stolen_—I watched him more tentatively. The trust I held for him all these years disintegrated into mistrust, for he truly did insult me by kissing me, on the _lips_, only to get an absurd point across. I felt violated, licking my lips in an attempt to rid the unusual sensation of plastic pressing against my "human" lips. Back in the car, I bit back an angry comment, in fear of Michael losing control once more.

I was disappointed in him. People always did tell me your best friends can changed entirely due to time, but I never took heed on their words. That is, until now. The once considerate boy I once knew was now a ticking time bomb. He was a _murderer_, no matter how it pained me to silently admit. Nobody knew what sadistic thoughts swarmed within his mind; only Michael did—and that horrifying fact frightened me. He was obviously planning something drastic, the knife clutched in his hand so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

I _will_ follow through my promise, but afterwards…I didn't know what would happen.

"Michael," I whispered delicately, "kidnapping her will only scare her. She'll never even listen to you. In order for her to even, like, hear what you're saying, you have to not be intimidating towards her." And looking over his brawny and lean, towering body, I knew it would be extremely difficult to _not_ intimidate someone. Even though Laurie was his sister, she probably doesn't even remember him. For all we know, she might not even _know_ she had a brother or sister.

But I knew he was going to kidnap her when he shot his head up, immediately differing with what I said. Shrinking back from his ferocious stare, I muttered, "Okay, okay." and held my hands in a yielding gesture.

It was very hard to be happy around Michael now. Looking at him, he was miserable. He wouldn't even show his own _face_ to me. Perhaps he had some new scars? Or bad acne?

I'll go with bad scars. I don't think he'd hide his face for acne.

I glanced out at the window, seeing darkness fall across the land. People dressed in costumes, ambled down the sidewalk, talking or laughing, with bags of candy in their arms. The more time progressed, the less kids were out, and the teenagers made their manifestation known with their boisterous hilarity, or driving mindlessly on the road with music turned full-blast in their car. I never got a chance to discover what that felt like—just going for a ride with music blasting in my ears. No. Instead, I spent most of my time locked in a room, surrounded by nothing but the marvelous composition produced from my beloved musical instrument—the piano. I never noticed what I was missing on, until now. I always thought I would panic if the car went at that velocity, or swerved dangerously. I never really had guts to do risky things, so that explains my mainly dreary existence. But I must admit that I enjoyed playing the piano; it was my dream, my forbidden adoration since a child. And once I moved away and was suddenly allowed to play it without jeopardy, I took advantage the best I could.

Michael snapped me from my contemplations when he abruptly stood up, his boots crunching on a bug in his foot's pathway. He gazed at me through the mask, his mysterious eyes staring at me in silent deliberation.

I stiffened under his gaze, my eyes locking onto his in return.

"Is it time?" I whispered, dreading the reality staring right at me.

I knew the plan. Michael was very skilled when it came to unspoken communication, and I had a feeling he'd be excellent at Charades, but that wasn't important right now.

Standing up, I stretched for a moment as Michael looked me over once more, his eyes leaving shivers down my spine.

"So, just to make sure I understand, I go to Laurie's house and find out where she's at? And then I come back to tell _you_, while you get this place ready, and then you'll tell me what to do from there?"

Michael nodded in approval.

Flicking a stray strand of hair from my eyes, I smiled up at Michael and walked past him. Just as I thought I was leaving unscathed, I felt his rough hand land on my frail shoulder, twisting me around to stare him dead in the eye.

For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me again.

But to my bewilderment, he only cupped my cheek in his large hand—the one without the knife—as if I was a doll. Confused, I gazed up at him as he gave me a meaningful look. Seeing the acknowledgment in my eyes flickering, he freed me from his grasp and I was barely able to remember how to walk again.

He told me to be safe. For _his_ sake.

* * *

His house wasn't far from Laurie's.

I shocked myself by remembering how to get there. But as I walked through the throngs of people dressed in costumes, I felt a sudden persuasion plague my mind.

Grinning mischievously, I hatched an idea, but reminded myself to get the job done beforehand.

Laurie's parents sat on their porch, in a deep conversation. I hesitated, thinking over what I would say briefly in my mind. And eventually gathering my courage, I finally made my appearance known to them.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Strode," I greeted happily, trying to act like I actually knew them.

The man eyed me apprehensively, seeing I wasn't dressed for the holiday, and stole a glance over at his wife, who stifled a wary look as well, forcing a tight smile on her aged lips. They were a delectable couple, and I could tell they loved one another dearly.

"Can we help you?" Mrs. Strode called out as I stopped in front of the porch, shadows lingering over my figure.

"May I speak with Laurie?" I requested openly, my smile widening in more persuasion of my incorruptibility.

They knew I wasn't a teenager, from my completely feminine physique, or my developed features, I felt sudden panic inflame within me. What if they don't tell me? What if they don't _trust_ me? I know they shouldn't ever trust a complete stranger, but I feared what Michael would do if I failed his simple mission.

"She left her textbook in my little cousin's locker," I swiftly lied; surprised by my talent of dishonesty—which wasn't praiseworthy. "I just wanted to let her know. I thought she'd be home."

"She _is_ home." Mrs. Strode said, her forced smile twisting into a friendly grin. "She's going out in a bit, she's getting ready."

"Oh. Where's she going?"

"She's babysitting Tommy. Do you know him?"

Yes. I remembered that little boy she walked with, over at Michael's house. Nodding, I thanked them authentically and left, not glancing behind me at once, feeling their stares stabbing at my back.

I have one more thing to do.

* * *

"Michael?" I walked into the Myer's house, the bag in my right hand shaking besides me as I walked. "Michael? I know where she'll be at."

I walked further into the house, stopping where the living room was at when Michael emerged from the basement, his eyes instantly staring at the bag in my right hand.

I grinned and held it up. "Look what I got. It's Halloween, right? So why not dress up, like you?"

I widened the bag to pull out an entirely black jumpsuit, tossing it onto a nearby floor. I smiled bigger as I pulled out the final merchandise, holding it up for Michael to see.

Back at the costume store, I found a Harley Quinn costume. I bought it, but decided against wearing the ridiculous costume. I purchased another costume, a plain and kinky jumpsuit, planning on having the least bit of fun tonight—besides, I was finally reunited with my best friend. I might as well enjoy it, right? With the Harley costume, which resembled a harlequin—clown—I ripped the eye mask that outlined the eyes, looking a lot like Robin's mask. I knew the eye mask would match well with the jumpsuit, so I bought them as one, throwing the extras in a nearby dumpster.

"You're not the only one who can dress up," I informed him, surveying my clever acquirement. I then remembered the assignment. "Oh, and Laurie won't be at her house much tonight. Her mother and father—"

Just as the words left my mouth, I gasped aloud as Michael grabbed my neck threateningly at the words "mother and father". I obviously insulted him, and regretted it instantly, especially when he pushed me back into the wall awaiting behind me.

"Sorry," I apologized, trembling in fear as his eyes resembled burning coals. "I-I didn't mean to make you mad, Michael. Really." Then I whispered faintly, "Michael. You're _hurtin_g me."

I dropped to the floor, my costume clutched to my chest still, and tears clouded my vision. Never in my life have I been so frightened, even when that wretched knife was pointed at me in menace.

How could I have been so _careless_?

* * *

~Michael Point of View~

* * *

Amber was angering him, especially when she claimed _his_ sister's _foster_ parents were her real ones. He never thought before he began squeezing on her neck, and leapt away, as if on fire, when she told him he was hurting her.

Michael gazed in horror down at his gritted hands, wondering what he just did. He previously promised himself he would _never_ harm Amber, nor would he threaten her in any single way. Yet here he was, frightening the poor woman to death, who was shuddering violently underneath him, her gaze turned to the floor.

He wished he would swallow his pride and just tell her he was sorry, but he knew he would never do that. He vowed to himself long ago that he would no longer verbalize, for some mysterious reason. Words were meaningless to him, evidentially.

He crouched before Amber, dropping his beloved knife on the floor with a soft _CLANG_, reaching out hesitantly. The woman stopped sniffling, and now, Michael was confused by the look on her face. It was blank. Void. His eyes widened under the mask as he looked her over, looking for an injury he might've done to her on accident. His search came up empty, because obviously, there was nothing wrong to her.

But that didn't explain the expression on her usually vibrant face.

The truth suddenly dawned on him. She reminded him of _himself_, long ago, right after he brutally murdered his family. He remembered his mind going vacant for awhile, not being able to think. He could recall how numb he felt before he turned into what he was.

She was becoming like _him_.

* * *

~Regular Point of View (Amber)~

* * *

I couldn't think.

I couldn't feel.

I couldn't _see_.

My mind only revealed darkness, darkness flowing around me in a consoling sensation. All my anger diminished like wind, all the betrayal of my parents leaving my body, or all the hurt and abandoned feelings when I had to leave Michael behind. I felt nothing.

For some reason, Michael's aggressiveness awakened something that was dormant in my mind. It brought it back, and it was slowly making its return.

I finally lifted my eyes into Michael's, and we both reflected off comparable images. We reflected out rampant emotions: anger, hurt, sadness, jealousy, and even perhaps desolation. We were the same. Never in my life have I felt like this—until now, until this very moment with Michael Myers.

Without saying a word, feeling like a suddenly different person, I slid off my tank top, along with my jeans, standing up to aid me. Michael went into a standing position, watching my every moment in silence, the only sound coming from him was his raspy breathing. I didn't feel odd standing in my private attire, surprisingly even with Michael's eyes on me.

I unrolled the slick jumpsuit in my arms, my eyes scanning over the kinky material in admiration. To me now, it didn't look like any costume. It was something more important to me, as I ran my fingers lightly over the surface. My hand met with the zipper on the back, and I zipped it down. My feet stepped into the leg holes as I slid the suit up my body, covering me in a layer of darkness for the time being. Without my request, Michael turned me around to zip the zipper (AN haha), his hands lingering on my back for a moment as I grew accustomed to the feel of this sexy material on my normally guiltless skin. I was also thankful the jumpsuit had a built-in covering over my feet, so it appeared I had shoes when I only had my costume. They felt like shoes, so even though I didn't have any, I technically did.

My hand lifted, showing me the eye mask from the other costume, and I glanced up at Michael, seeing those eyes watching me again. Sweeping back my hair, I pulled the tight mask over my head, feeling the outline hide the shape and angle of my eyes.

I felt…malformed.

I felt revenge swell inside of me, my fascination for Michael Myers persuading me to help him in _any way_ he wishes. And as I turned to smile, not my bright and friendly smile, but my newly warped and naughty smirk, I could tell he was grinning under his own mask in return. I was reborn, in a way like no other.

"Happy Halloween."

* * *

**Dun dun DUN! I'm dying (not literally) to see what ya'll have to say! Please refrain from cussing me out though :3 I think I would mind that XD **

**So sorry for the long wait, again. I hope this makes up for it. ^_^ **

**~YolandaFriella**


	18. Chapter 18

Dearly Beloved

_Author: YolandaFriella_

**Here's the moment you've all been, hopefully, waiting for! The end of Dearly Beloved! I really hope you guys like how I ended it, or if you don't, I can always make a sequel ;) Let me know what you think in a review! :D I'll thanks everyone at the end of the chapter, so I won't put it up here ;p**

**It saddens me to write this, but everything comes to an end, right? I may make a sequel, heck I'm even putting up a poll for you all to decide! :D Vote and I'll announce the details in an AN for this story later when the poll's closed! :) **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Amber. **

* * *

"So you killed the girl?" I asked Michael, waiting patiently in the hallway as he emerged with a body in his arms. I quickly covered my eyes, seeing that the girl was bare naked. Sure I wasn't little ol' Amber, but that didn't mean I'd now go around _staring_ at naked people. I watched Michael, seeing him avert his gaze, careful not to look at the girl's naked body.

My eyes trailed to her face, and I recognized her instantly. That was Laurie's friend, the one that did that cheerleading incident. I rolled my eyes, stepping in stride besides Michael as we walked through the hallway. You would never have recognized her without clothes. It's ridiculous. How could she stand being _naked_ in a house that wasn't even her own! This was _Michael's_ house, not hers! Needless to say, when they pulled up in front, I could tell Michael was insulted. Especially when we found out what they planned to do.

Boy I'm glad I'm a woman now. Teenage years were hard for me.

"So where's the boy?" I asked, knowing Michael didn't kill him yet. We only snuck upstairs, and I suppose I slowed Michael down a bit because of my unfamiliarity of all of this. In fact, I was still learning.

"Wait." I snatched Michael's knife, him blinking in confusion to stop and stare at me. I trailed my hands down the length, seeing my reflection stare back at me. I did, indeed, look different. My eyes were hidden behind that eye mask, and I merely looked like a figure dressed in entirely black. The only thing that stood out was my hair—which was its usual fiery red, falling past my shoulders in gentle curls. I grinned mischievously up at Michael, "Can I do it?"

Disbelief shined in his eyes, and I frowned. He had no faith in me. Obviously, he thought I was too weak to do any damage to anyone. Something swelled in my chest, something that _made_ me _want_ to impress Michael, something that gave me the need to somehow make him _proud_ of me.

I wanted to show him I've changed. I was reborn. Like him.

"Trust me," I whispered, desperately wanting to see that offensive doubt change into approval in those inexplicable eyes. Nothing else mattered to me anymore, suddenly, everything mattered about _him_.

Suddenly, a voice sounded behind us. "What the hell?"

I whirled around, seeing the guy, with a beer can in his hand, his eyes widened behind his glasses, staring at us in pure terror. I didn't take one more glance at Michael, I clutched the knife tightly in my hands, mirroring Michael's tactic, and I silently approached him. I heard Michael sigh behind me, and turn to head towards the basement, leaving me to do my business.

"Wanna play a game?" I suggested mischievously, tilting my head to the side, my hair following my actions.

The guy dropped the beer can, his eyes falling upon the knife, and I then saw just how unsteady he was. He was drunk.

My father flashed in my mind, and sudden vehemence raged within me. So this was how Michael felt when he did this…..My playful smirk changed to a furious sneer, my empty hand curling in reaction to my severe feelings.

"_I WANT YOU TO FUCKING LISTEN TO ME, YOU LITTLE WHORE!" _

With a ferocious snarl, seeing red clouding my vision, I bared the knife's tip and lunged at the guy, reaching out to stab wherever my destination landed. Blood gushed from the guy's chest as I succeeded in getting him in the gut, and in quick movements, I stabbed him several times.

Michael liked to play with his victims. He was sadistic. He enjoyed seeing them _squirm_ under his spiteful ways. And me? I still didn't like the sight of blood, but it felt…..exhilarating to get vengeance on people. So, I decided to end their lives quick and simple. I was unlike Michael when it came to killing.

I straightened up, blood dripping off my forearms, my eyes avoiding the victim's newly battered body. I felt no guilt. I only felt more _need_ to find _more_ people and inflict pain like this.

A hand lay on my shoulder, and I didn't have to look to know it was Michael. I could hear his breathing from where I stood.

He witnessed the entire thing.

"Life isn't fair," I whispered, handing him the unclean knife. He cleaned it with his mechanic's sleeve, his eyes staying on mine. "Then again, nothing's really fair. Is it, Michael?"

Michael saw my bloody arms, and bent down a little to try and wipe it off with his own sleeve. I giggled in response. He was beginning to remind me of how a mother would clean her offspring's, if they have food on their faces or something. His clothing was really starting to look dirty, especially after he tried his best to clean mine, even though I knew the blood would only come off if I either put this jumpsuit in a washer, or found some kind of sink.

But even I knew we didn't have that kind of time.

Before Michael could move back, I pressed myself against him and wrapped my arms around him. I knew it. The feeling finally returned. I _loved_ Michael, and my love only grew when I _became_ like him.

We were some twisted couple, that's for sure.

I buried my head in his dirty chest, feeling him stiffen before me. "It's just us, Michael. Just you, and me."

And that's all we wanted.

* * *

I knew Michael wanted me to be quiet when we made our way to where Annie was, but I couldn't help it. I skipped ahead of him, feeling the cool, night air on my face and I inhaled deeply.

There was nothing like Halloween.

_Nothing_.

Finally, we reached our "destination".

The house was warm, and I could hear people in the living room. I walked ahead of Michael, finding them on the coach.

I looked away quickly, seeing the couple making out. Eyes linking onto Michael's, he looked just as disgusted as I was, and I could see the teenager's menstruations only made Michael angrier. Backing up against the wall, I stared at the floor as Michael attacked them.

He took the boy first.

I recognized the girl. She was another one of Laurie's friends. The policeman's daughter. Even though she was shirtless (shocker, right?), I noticed her face as she scrambled around the room, shrieking in pure terror at the sight of her boyfriend being slaughtered before her very eyes. To be honest, I'd probably be doing the same thing she was doing. Well, if I was the "original" Amber.

"Michael," I warned, seeing her run towards the door. Michael, after hearing me, went after her. My heart began beating faster, paralyzed, as she went out the door, Michael's body going out only a little. Fortunately, he caught her just in time, slamming the door shut behind him.

I stayed put as the two raced into the kitchen, and I decided to let Michael take care of Annie. My eyes landing on the guy's body, I stared at him. To be honest, he _was_ good-looking.

Stepping closer, I propped him up and looked him over. His head hung lifelessly, his eyes wide open, staring at me in pure shock. I grinned and giggled quietly, catching a jack-o-lantern out of the corner of my eye.

Minutes later, the jack-o-lantern was covering his face, the eyes from the pumpkin staring back at me. I waved back, seeing darkness lurking in the holes for the eyes. Michael returned, surprised at my accomplishment, and I knew he liked my idea.

"He has a mask," I told him optimistically, "just like _us_."

Michael picked him up by the shoulders like a rag doll, and I followed behind him as we went into the doorway. I wasn't startled when I saw Annie, beaten up, her skin a bluish, sick color, lying on the floor, her eyes staring up at us in pure horror.

Her nightmare was coming true.

"Hi there," I greeted with a slick smile, walking over her carefully. "I hope you're having….a wonderful Halloween. I sure am!"

She only moaned in response, crying softly when Michael hung the guy up across the doorway. If someone walked in, their eyes would notice him immediately. Michael was studying him approvingly, meeting my eyes briefly.

I was gone. And there was no going back. What was done, was done.

Tears flooded my eyes, the old Amber coming back for a moment. Michael noticed instantly, and was already towering over me, shaking his head "no". My lower lip quivered, and I looked away, seeing Annie's broken body.

I _helped_ the killer do that.

And then my eyes met Michael's again, and warmth swarmed within me. He likes me better like this. Like _him_. Before, we couldn't agree on _anything_. But now….we can totally relate.

If Michael likes me better like this, then so be it. I'll be _whoever_ he likes, no matter who it was.

Just for him.

* * *

Laurie came into our trap.

Michael was hidden behind the door, and I hid in the closet in the hallway, the door slightly ajar so I could see. She walked in with the other little girl, and screamed as she saw the guy hanging on the wall. Once her eyes fell on Annie, she dropped to her knees, comforting her best friend.

The other little girl ran away, screaming for her young life.

Laurie then ran to the kitchen, and I could hear her calling the cops. Slowly, the front door closed silently, Michael emerging. He stared at Annie for a moment, moving over to the guy to bump his chest, making him hit into the wall softly in response.

"Laurie," Annie murmured, shaking her head from the intense pain inflicted on her body.

Michael opened my closet door, and I knew it was time for me to come. Stepping free from it, Annie met my eyes and she said louder, "Laurie!"

"Hold on, baby!" Laurie called back, her voice wavering.

I stepped over Annie, my eyes fixed on Michael, who was entering the kitchen. It was time. He was getting Laurie.

This was the kidnapping.

I stayed in the doorway as Michael struggled with Laurie, until I heard something crash. Looking into the living room, where the sound came from, I noticed the glass door was _shattered_.

I wonder who did that.

Michael was nowhere in sight.

Hurrying, I stepped through the glass carefully, stepping into the calm moonlight once more. I ran across the street with a bounce in my step, like always, and saw Michael breaking down Laurie's door. They were screaming from the inside. Michael chased her inside, with a calm strut, as if knowing he would eventually catch her, and I stepped inside hesitantly.

When did Michael kill her parents?

Oh wait. He never did.

On cue, something hard slammed into my head as Michael escaped from my vision. I saw stars for a moment, and stumbled forward blindly, falling onto my knees brutally.

"This is the police!" A man shouted behind me, and I felt lights enter past me, red and blue. I groaned in return, cursing inwardly.

Michael…get out of here….

"Who are you?" One of them demanded, seeing my dark form. Once he saw blood decorating my arms, he pointed his gun down at me. "I said,' who are you'! Answer me!"

"My name is Amber," I whispered, blood oozing down my head. Crap. They _cracked_ my skull!

"Have you seen the murderer anywhere?" He demanded.

I began giggling, turning my head to smirk up at him. He gulped at my laughing, wondering what was wrong with me for a moment. "I _work_ with Michael Myers, you idiot. This is the blood from that other guy next door."

"What? I'd better tell the—"

Screams from upstairs cut him off, and I began laughing uncontrollably, the blood making my vision hazy. I watched him run up the stairs, and heard a gunshot.

My heart stopped.

Did he shoot _Michael_?

Silence met with my intent ears, and my vision was getting worse.

I swore I saw Michael walking over me, with a bundle in his arms, but it must've been a daydream or a hallucination.

He wouldn't leave me here, bleeding.

….would he?

* * *

I woke up to find myself staring at an older man, with white hair and an anxious expression.

"Young lady!" He snapped, shaking my shoulders roughly. "Where is Michael? Are you Amber Rarrat?"

"Don't _touch_ me," I snarled, shoving his hands off of me. "And yes, I'm Amber. Where am I?"

"You're in my car. Now where did Michael take Laurie? Please tell me!"

"Why would I tell you? Who _are_ you?"

"My name is Samuel Loomis." He glanced around, opening the door to open mine. "Now can you please tell me where he went? I have a feeling he's at his house, but do you know why he wants his _sister_?"

"You're Doctor Loomis?" I repeated, eyes wide. My face, every time I made an expression it wrinkled up from the dried blood. I desperately needed a bath—now. It was then I noticed my eye mask was gone. "Hey! Where's my mask?"

"We took it. I'll give it back to you if you tell me why Michael took Laurie!"

"Because, I don't know." I said helplessly, not thinking straight. My head was beginning to pound. "He took her because…..he wanted her to remember him or something" I paused. "Wait. Did Michael _leave_ me there?"

"Yes. Michael left. But listen to me, girl, you're going to a hospital. And then, you're headed to an _asylum_." He hissed angrily. "You belong to be locked up. You're _just_ like Michael."

I giggled happily, feeling as if I was drunk or something. "You know what? Thank you. I love Michael, and I _want_ to be like him."

"I knew it! You're acting like this just because Michael wants you to. You know, you don't have to act like him. T-this isn't you! I can tell it isn't."

"You don't know me." Darkness was overtaking my vision, and I leaned back, welcoming it. "This is who I am. I was like this all along, I just didn't know it. Michael, thankfully, showed it to me."

The doctor said nothing, just stared at me silently.

"I'm gonna die, aren't I?" I breathed, feeling lightheaded.

"You might. If we don't get you to a hospital soon. That policeman hit you pretty hard, at the right spot. If you do live, you'll experience some minor problems with your brain."

"Life sucks," I muttered, closing my eyes as darkness swarmed in my vision.

"I must stop him! Once I get his sister back, Miss, I'll take you to a hospital. Okay? Just stay with me or you may die! Miss?"

I already felt myself losing my consciousness. I wasn't going to _die_. I might faint or whatever, but I won't die.

Maybe an asylum didn't sound too bad. Perhaps I'll….grow to like it. Who knows. I might hate it for all I know.

But I knew Michael could never stay locked up. He'll break out somehow, and when he does…..

He'll break _me_ out.

* * *

**THE END**

**Yes, I know that was an abrupt ending...I think. But it matched, didn't it? Please let me know if you like it! If you absolutely HATED how I did the ending, let me know and you'll obviously encourage me to fix it with a sequel ;) **

**Thanks to all the reviewers for the entire story: **2cool4u123, Marnie Wolffe, Kohai93, Joker with the Green Scarf, SailorBoo, Nanoe, Dramatic Ballerina, Strawaltz, VictoriaxAdam Fan Girl, Chibi-Akira-Chan, Saiyuo 12, xXxMudvayneGirlxXx, xDemolitionxLoverx, Acro111, Esanssi, diggydawg, Funky Slushie, thedeathchandelier, ZanessaANDRobsten, darklight182,BeautyFlames, tulit tea, JamesSaysHi, Raine44354, Smilely1Face23, 8yume, zombiegoth, DarkAngel942, takara410, Cafana989, lovelyXserenity14, Amber wannabe, ShadowTeenGirl, horrorfreak101, All Hallows Eve Baby, eskie02, kataang rules and you know it, and novellover**! All of your reviews have helped me finish this story! I thank you all so much! :) Vote on my poll if you want a sequel ;) **

**Thanks to the people who favorites this story: **6436448-Midnight, 8yume, Acro111, All Hallows Eve Baby, Alynelovesyou, BeautyFlames, Broken Thought Of One, Cartoon Shakespeare, Charlotte Maryweather, Chibi-Akira-Chan, Clumsylittlegirl, Dark Melody Night, DarkAngel942, darklight182, diggydawg, Dramatic Ballerina, eskie02, Funky Slushie, hina lover 1010, horrorfreak101, Igotpaulfeva, Joker with the Green Scarf, kalihimesama, kataang rules and you know it, Kohai93, Leaves-in-the-Sand, lovelucius, lovelyxserenity14, MansonDoll, Marnie Wolffe, Niveia, Poca, Sayana-De-Devarsky, sesshomarusmate54, ShadowClaw21, Shindii, stephaniekit, Strawaltz, takara410, thedeathchandelier, ToxicFireStarter, tulip tea, VictoriaxAdam Fan Girl, Volka Citron, x-MexicanPunkGirl, xDemolitianxLoverx, XxAnimalxInsidexX, xXxMudvayneGirlxXx, ZanessaANDRobsten, zombiegoth.** I'm happy you all like this enough to favorite it! :) **

**I also thank my alerts, but I'm too lazy to put them up ;p sorry! All these names are giving me a headache hahahaa **

**Anyway, I'm so happy I've completed this! In fact, this is my only story I've completed out of all the ones on my profile. If any of you are a fan of Avatar, I have some stories for that. Or House of Knight and Batman? I have those, too! And I shall let you all know if I'm making a sequel or not, that is, if ya'll vote on it ;p **

**Thanks for reading! :D **


	19. Chapter 19

Dear beloved readers (haha),

From what you have all voted on, only one of you said not to make a sequel. But 16 other people voted on continuing the story. So guess what? I shall continue! I cannot give you a definite date for when it'll be up, but I can say that I'm getting back into school mode, where I may only be able to update on the weekends (sadly), so it may not be up to your preferred speed. Plus, I have two other stories that desperately need attention. So, I'll hurry up and figure the plot and everything, and publish it. Thank you for all voting, and look out for the story =) I have yet to figure out the title, or the summary. All I know is that there WILL be a sequel :D Thank you and I look forward to writing it!

Sincerely,

YolandaFriella

PS: if any of you have title suggestions, please let me know in either a review or PM.


	20. Chapter 20

Dear readers (again),

I know some of you have seen my post up the sequel already, but I took it down. First, I made it too hastily without planning it out. And two, I didn't like how it was. And now I already have it planned out, I just have to write it. Thank you for being patient with me, and be expecting a sequel

It will be called "Sanctuary" just to let you all know ^-^

Sincerely,

YolandaFriella


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